This is the first chronological work in the Darwin series, titled after the first work I originally began in this series. This is my personal headcanon on how Australia and America would begin dating, so you may see me reference the year 1917 in other works with this pairing.

I am aware that I fudged with history a little to make a more pleasing narrative, and if you feel like you need to point this out, be aware I'm not changing it.

This work is posted on February 19th, 2017, the 75th anniversary of the Bombing of Darwin in 1942, the first and largest air raid by the Japanese against Australia during the entire war, and the largest single attack ever mounted by a foreign power on Australia.

1917

Somewhere in France, Western Front, Europe

Kyle glanced over at Avery as they smoked cigarette after cigarette. "That's not gonna help, you know." He said as the Kiwi started on their third cigarette of the afternoon. He hadn't had a cigarette since before lunch, content to stretch out his tobacco ration until the supplies arrived that evening.

Avery, in turn, made a rude hand gesture before returning to the cigarette they were currently working on. "Fuck off, we'll get more tonight anyhow." They returned the cigarette to their mouth, taking a long draw and sighing as they exhaled. "Besides, it helps me think."

Kyle rolled his eyes, and then stood up on tiptoes to glance over the trench, ducking before any Germans could spot him. "Doesn't appear to be anything going on over there today." He said, sitting back down in the hot and dry trench, mercifully dry for the moment, as it was the end of summer. But soon the rain would return, and everyone on the Western front knew it.

Avery snorted, putting out their cigarette and tucking what remained back into the carton. "For all the Americans talk, you'd think they might be able to actually do something in this war. Matthew's troops are far more helpful than Alfred's."

Kyle shrugged. "They're children. They're new to war. They were like us, before-" Kyle cut himself off.

New Zealand looked up at him and neither was able to say the name of that cursed place aloud. Kyle finally grunted. "You know what I mean." He said, trying to relax for a few moments.

Avery nodded in agreement, and watched Kyle pull out one of his own cigarettes. "Do you have a light?" He asked when he pulled out his matches and saw they were wet from an accidental spill of a few liters of water last night.

Avery struck a match for their brother. A gunshot sounded, and then several more, causing both to jump, and a few of their soldiers tossed their rifles up and over into no man's land in case there was an advance force coming forward. Kyle glanced at his watch as he tried to calm down, cigarette having hurriedly been shoved back into the carton and the match blown out. "Ah, it's three o'clock. So wait five minutes, then we'll fire back." He said, before taking a long drag on the cigarette after striking another match and lighting it. It was usually right on the dot that the Germans fired at the lines, and besides, no one really wanted to shoot each other anymore.

Hunkering down, both of the nations from the Southern Hemisphere examined their feet and hands as the sounds of bullets passed by overhead, checking for any signs of something more dangerous than smelly feet. Kyle groaned before yanking off his socks. "I thought my feet smelled bad back in 'Straya." He muttered, glad the it was only smell currently clinging to them.

"They still classify as weapons. Put on a new pair before I puke on you." Avery responded, over exaggerating their physical reaction. Kyle snorted and pretended to toss his socks towards Avery. Had they been at home, this would have resulted in shrieking and laughter as he chased after his younger sibling.

Now it resulted in a glare and half intended wince.

At 3:05, they lifted their rifles over the trench, aimed towards the German lines, and fired the required amount. The Germans responded back half heartedly, and for a while they all seemed to pretend that this game of war still mattered.

But Kyle felt the fresh blood drip down from the gash on his nose when the battle was finished, and Avery sighed. "They got someone."

Kyle could see the two young men who had been citizens of his country as Avery mopped up his bleeding face. Scared, miserable. Their deaths had meant nothing in the war, yet it would mean everything to their families.

At least they weren't shelled. He thought, and then pulled out another cigarette, trying not to show any emotion, despite the fact New Zealand could see the pain in his eyes.

Avery sighed. "It ain't gonna help, but it sure does feel good, doesn't it?" They asked, striking a match and offering it to him.

He said nothing. Nothing needed to be said. The two siblings fell into a comfortable silence, ignoring everything else around them.

***

They received the notes with their rum and tobacco rations that night.

"England wants us to head back to base...? I could kill him." Kyle snapped, wondering when their former colonizer would stop bossing them around like useless children. Hadn't they proven themselves enough in this war to be treated like adults?

Avery shrugged without looking at Kyle, though they were paying enough attention to Kyle to keep him from swiping their rum when he tried to reach for it. "Who knows why he wants us? We should head to see him tonight."

"What about at first light?" Kyle said, reluctant to leave their men for any longer than necessary to achieve whatever mission Arthur had planned.

Avery shook their head. "It's been a few days... I don't think first light is a good idea."

Kyle winced as he realized what Avery meant, remembering how he and the Kiwi had discovered that the Germans liked to keep erratic shelling schedules in order to be unpredictable. "Alright, tonight it is. Now drink your rum or I will."

Avery tilted back the glass and guzzled it down. Despite possibly being a girl (really, Kyle didn't know and didn't ask), Avery had the alcohol tolerance of a man. Even England, unsure of their identity, was perfectly fine with allowing Avery to be masculine and fight in the war.

Which was why Avery was here while Siobhan was at home, though Kyle heard she was fighting tooth and nail for her freedom from Arthur. Yet another thing for their former colonizer to fuss and worry over, an independent Ireland.

They lowered their heads and crept back through the systems of trenches, showing their letters and passes until they reached an area out of the reach of shelling weapons, where cars waited for them and any others who made it out of the trenches alive.

Kyle and Avery almost collapsed in the back seat of the car sent specifically for them. Avery was fast asleep the moment they began moving. Kyle sighed, watching the driver for a few moments before allowing himself to drift off as well. With night falling, they were safe from planes and bombs and shells. The only thing they weren't safe from was their own minds.

He hoped the exhaustion might keep the nightmares at bay for once.

***

Arthur spent a few minutes fretting over them once they arrived later that night, until they had assured him they were fine for what felt like the thousandth time that minute alone.

"No you're not." He said when he saw the rust brown soaked bandage over Kyle's nose. But Kyle refused to let him tend to it or even touch it, an objection that did not go unnoticed by the Englishman.

"Why are we here, England?" He finally asked as the man backed off at last, leaving his somewhat bellicose former colony alone.

"Ah, yes." England said, as if Kyle had pointed out he had been violating some obvious rules of etiquette. "I need both of you to wash up. I have clean uniforms for you. We're going to fetch America from the ship he's on in the morning. He's arrived in France at last, and we should greet him properly."

Avery rolled their eyes as they had when Alfred finally announced he would be joining them, and Kyle sighed. "Can't you, Matthew, and Francis do that? We have men we want to be with, Arthur. And besides, it's Fran's country, not ours."

England suddenly looked to the side and at the ground, almost forlorn. Avery glared, kicking Kyle in the shins while England was occupied. Kyle bit back a few curses aimed at the Kiwi and then looked at England harder.

Matthew always comes out to greet us unless something is really wrong...

After Ypres, Matthew had stayed in the back of the army. His eyesight had been so damaged that England figured he'd make a better nurse than anything else. He always greeted anyone who arrived unless something had happened to Arthur or...

"What happened to Francis?" Avery asked, and Kyle realized that they should have seen both the men by now. He reminded himself that the Kiwi could be astute sometimes, but also promised to pay them back for the new bruise sometime soon.

"Bullet to the head. He... He came back alright, although he can't walk again yet. Matthew wanted to stay with him."

Alright is a relative term. You mean he doesn't have permanent physical damage from what killed him last. Kyle thought before asking where the showers were and ending the conversation as quickly as he could. Grabbing clean towels and soap at the entrance, the two nations headed in.

When he stepped out of his shower and saw Avery already drying off and half dressed, he had to blink in shock at the soft blond curls.

"I was starting to forget your hair wasn't dirt brown." He commented when Avery glared at him for watching them dress, almost shooting daggers.

Avery snorted, finishing the buttoning of their shirt. "I could say the same of you- Oh wait, never mind. Your hair is always dirt brown.."

They stuck out tongues and had a good laugh as Kyle dressed. It was nice to almost feel human again.

However, when Avery tried to help him put a new bandage on his face, he saw how much blood the gauze had soaked up and it brought them both back to a stark reality.

This was a war they weren't sure they could win.

***

Alfred arrived in a show of spectacle and power as always the next morning. "Arthur! Kyle! Avery! How are you?!" He shouted, almost bouncing off of the ship before running over, shouting their names loud enough for every American soldier and French civilian to hear.

Kyle laughed as both Avery and Arthur begged to be hugged without quite so much compression to the chest once Alfred had reached them. But when Alfred reached Kyle, Kyle squeezed his chest before the American could. Alfred laughed and returned the favor. It was a friendly competition between the two, with neither willing to back down and declare one of king of bear hugs.

However, even in their clean uniforms and freshly washed, the two former colonies and England looked like shit compared to the man in front of them. Alfred looked fresh and healthy and alive, despite the fact that his people were also dying alongside them in the trenches now. He was almost glowing with good health. Honestly, it was unfair.

"It's good to see you, Alfred." Arthur said with a smile, turning his focus solely towards Alfred, but Kyle noticed that while the American was facing England, his eyes were flickering over both of the commonwealth nations.

Kyle glanced off to the side, trying to pretend that the gash on his nose hadn't started bleeding again, although he was sure that if it hadn't already soaked through the gauze, it soon would. He was going to have to get some transfusions soon if it kept bleeding like this.

Of course, actually I won't. I'll either be fine or die and come back again. Gash on the nose might be the strangest way I've recently died, though. Ah well, at least it's better than dying again in-

He cut off the sentence in his mind, realizing America was still watching him out of the corner of his eyes, and his whole body had just tensed as he thought about that cursed place. Kyle also realized it was unusual for him to be still this long, and quickly popped over behind Avery, who also seemed glad to put some distance between them and England when Kyle grabbed their arm and dragged them away. America tried to watch them for a little bit, but then visibly gave up, turning his attention solely back to England.

"Arthur's gonna yell about our manners again." Avery commented as they settled down next to a metal rail at the edge of the docks, watching the American troops unload the ship.

"Do you give a rat's ass what that pommy bastard has to say?" Kyle muttered, and Avery shook their head as they pulled out a cigarette. Kyle did as well, holding his lighter out, and both began to take long drags after a few seconds, not focusing on the clatter of men around them.

"He was watching both of us." Kyle began after a few minutes, not sure what else to say.

"Well, he probably considers us family." Zea added, blowing a few smoke rings as they sighed.

"Do we consider him family, though?" Kyle asked, sounding a little surprised that the American might consider them family when neither of them had even been born when he became independent from Arthur.

Avery shrugged. "Kinda. Like, a distant cousin more than a brother, though, but Matthew says he's a firm believer that he's everyone's friend, so he probably considers us close family."

Kyle sighed as he exhaled, leaning over the railings. "I wonder how many times he'll face death before he realizes what hell it is over here. How long will it be before he looks like us?"

"He won't ever look like us. Did you feel the way the power radiated off of him?"

Kyle blinked in confusion. "The power?"

"Don't you remember when we were little, and England seemed like the strongest person in the world?" Avery asked.

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well, it's because he was one of the strongest at the time. America's got a similar feeling to him. He wasn't born with that brute strength he has for nothing." Avery took another long drag. "No matter how we feel about him, we'd do ourselves well to be aligned with him."

Kyle snorted. "It's never going to happen. He's an isolationist. No permanent alliances, remember?"

Avery rolled their eyes. "He claims to be an isolationist. His actual policy says differently. Let's just play it safe for now and stick with him."

Before Kyle could respond, England was shouting for them to get back over. They hurriedly ground out their cigarettes, shoving them back into the boxes once they were sure they were extinguished.

They got back into the car and headed back out towards the base camp. Arthur tried to keep them in conversation with Alfred, but Avery was quickly asleep again, leaning against Kyle tiredly, and Kyle wrapped an arm around them, protecting his younger sibling.

Kyle said nothing as America watched both of them with confusion and curiosity in his eyes. Kyle just trying to keep the bandage on his nose from sticking out more than it already did. He knew it was already turning red.

The silence as everyone gave up on conversation soon had him nodding off as well, his head resting on the glass of the window.

***

Canada greeted them when they returned to the base, and America laughed as he leapt out of the car, running to embrace his brother. "Mattie bro!"

Kyle laughed as Canada squeezed back hard, enough to make the American cry for air, likely the real winner of the bear hug crown. But as no one seemed to be focusing on the two southern nations anymore in the rush to greet America, Kyle slipped inside.

France will be in a private room. They don't want anyone to see him come back to life after all... He thought, cautiously opening doors on the second floor of this once luxurious home until he saw the figure on the bed. "Hiya, Francis."

France glanced up with tired eyes. "Bonjour, Kyle. Where is your constant companion?"

"They're still outside-" He began, until New Zealand suddenly slipped past him to wave. "-or not."

"Bonjour, New Zeeland." France said, using the Dutch enunciation of Avery's name. "How are you today?"

"Well enough. Wanted to warn you that America is coming up to see you." Avery said, approaching the bed to glance over France and make sure he was doing well.

Francis nodded. "Oui, oui, Mathieu told me he was arriving this morning. And how are the two of you doing?"

Avery seemed frozen for a moment. "We're doing fine." They finally said.

"Are you sure? Angleterre says you have been sleeping a lot more than usual since-"

Kyle stopped him, stepping forward and setting a hand on Zea's shoulder. "We don't talk about that."

Francis saw the pain and anger in their eyes, and nodded. "My apologies. If you mentioned that to me before this latest... accident ... I may have... forgotten..."

They all seemed uncomfortable in the silence that followed, and then a loud voice came booming down the hall. France lifted up his head and smiled. "Ah, Amerique is here."

"Hey France!" Alfred said as he entered the room, almost shoving past the others. "Matt said you aren't quite up to the challenge of moving around on your feet yet."

"Ah, Amerique, you have grown again!" France shouted, almost in delight as he sat up to examine the American, and Kyle decided it would be best to slip away before anyone else arrived.

Downstairs, he hoped to disappear into the barracks and sleep, but Matthew caught him just as he was nearing the rooms. "Time for stitches."

Kyle groaned. "They're just gonna tear open again on the front when more of my soldiers are killed. Let's not and tell England we did, capache?" He said, giving a slightly mischievous grin as he tried to pull himself from the Canadian's grip.

Canada rolled his eyes, and tightened his grip. "Yes, because gangrene on your nose is a better way to go. Come on."

Kyle sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable as Canada dragged him towards a small separate room where they wouldn't be watched too closely.

***

It was hard getting used to Matthew with glasses, and clearly Matthew was still uncomfortable with them, constantly pushing them around on his face, hoping for a better angle as he sewed.

"What's it like?" Kyle finally asked, pointing at the glasses. He thanked the gods that nations had an unnaturally high pain tolerance, or else he would have been so high on painkillers that he wouldn't be able to ask.

Matthew sighed. They had just finished with the stitches across the bridge of Kyle's nose once more. "I miss the old days. I used to be able to see so far. Now I can barely see you without them. I suppose it's because I must suffer with my men, so I'm not angry. Just... tired. Very tired."

Kyle nodded, having heard that answer from the other nations so many times as they tried to help him and Zea through their first independent war. Canada sank into the chair.

"Do you think Alfred's gonna be okay?" Kyle finally asked, shifting the attention away from the two of them.

"If he begins to look like the rest of us, then it means we will lose the war." Matthew said with a sigh. "He's our only hope at this point. Let's hope he's going to be okay."

***

They were back in the trenches once more. Kyle found it hard to believe that Alfred, such a vibrant life, was only a few miles away in the trenches, though it was undoubtedly less as the crow flies.

Avery still at his side, Kyle prayed that the end of the war would soon be in sight, as he had almost every day since it began.

He was about to say something to Avery about it when he heard the distinctive sound of a shell whistling through the air.

They both hit the ground. Being buried alive and in one piece was better than being buried dead and in many, though neither was particularly desired by either of the two nations.

Their fellow ANZAC men dropped as well. They had no idea how, but if Avery and Kyle Kirkland had survived every horror they had faced, then surely they could too.

England had offered to send them home after Avery told him what had happened in that fateful place, but Kyle had refused. Being out here made his soldiers feel brave, and that was reason enough to stay (along with the Kiwi refusing to go home. Kyle wouldn't leave them to fight on their own).

Even if their men's reasons for being brave were somewhat falsified. After all, when your thought was 'at least this semi-immortal being hasn't died' , you might just be setting yourself up for failure. But Kyle was perfectly content to let them keep believing that he had faced the horrors of... and somehow, he had survived and been willing to join them in Europe as a mortal man.

He heard shouts from the Americans further down the lines, panicked cries and fear coursing through their young voices. He could almost hear Alfred trying to calm them down, only just realizing the horror of this place.

They're just scared little boys...

He heard the next shell land firmly in the American trench, screams and cries and agony, and Alfred's pants of pain as his men's lives were extinguished with a single blow.

Kyle got the courage to stand, not sure where the sudden idea had come from. Throwing his rifle over the trench, he emptied the load into no man's land, prompting other ANZAC troops to follow suit. He heard some surprised yelling in German, and dropped down before they could return fire, reloading and firing again. The exchange went on for several minutes, and then the shelling finally stopped.

Sinking to the bottom of the trench and panting with the effort, he was surprised to look up and find a very angry Kiwi in front of him, about ready to pull out their officer's pistol and shoot Kyle themself.

Avery growled out an insult at him as they almost slammed Kyle down onto the ground completely. "Are you fucking trying to get yourself killed?!" They screamed, half shaking him as they knelt over him.

He looked at his sibling and almost half sobbed the words. "They're just little kids, Avery. They're just kids. All those Americans... all of our troops... they're just kids!"

Avery seemed half angry, half understanding, and half in shock at the sudden show of emotion from their older brother. They looked like they wanted to send Kyle back to England for nervous shock, yet they couldn't bring themselves to do it.

The sun was setting. Avery sighed as the explosions in retaliation finally ceased from their side.

"You get some sleep. I'll take watch tonight. And I'm not taking no for an answer!" Avery said, half shoving Kyle into their little hole in the side of the trench.

Kyle didn't object, and despite the emotional turmoil raging inside him, he fell asleep almost instantly.

Avery sighed, reaching back into the hole and stroking Kyle's hair. "You have to tell someone eventually, brother. You can't keep doing this."

The Australian murmured something in his sleep.

It almost sounded like "Gallipoli...".

***

A few weeks later, they all headed back to the base after another cryptic note from England. Kyle and Avery didn't know what had happened this time until they saw the ambulance ahead of them.

Kyle booked it inside, reaching the room where Francis had previously been held. He saw England standing over America, who was on the bed. "How is he?" He asked, feeling panic swelling inside his chest at the sight of Alfred unable to respond to anyone.

Arthur sighed, pulling back from the examination he had been doing. "In and out of consciousness. His men said he wasn't breathing, but we can always pass it off as a false reading if he recovers, as he hasn't actually died yet..."

Avery came up the stairs at that point, panting. "Hell, Kyle, you don't have to run."

Kyle shrugged, looking around. "So the others..." He said, feeling the panic start to return. He hadn't seen Matthew or Francis. They couldn't be...

Matthew came in as well, right behind New Zealand. "He hasn't been left alone with England, Kyle. Calm down. You just ran in here so fast we didn't have time to say hello."

"We would never allow Angleterre to cook food for the camp, however, so our presence was needed elsewhere for a while." France said, and Kyle bit back a sigh of relief at seeing both of them alive and breathing.

Arthur sighed again. "Both of you-" he said, gesturing to Kyle and Avery "- need to go and rest. And I won't take no for an answer." His stern use of that tone and phrase showing Kyle that the Kiwi had certainly gotten their mother hen nature from somewhere.

And for once, Kyle didn't need to be told twice. He followed Avery to the bunks and they both crashed under the weight of the world.

A few minutes later, Canada came in and sighed, going over and tucking Kyle's arms in under the covers as the Australian had already sprawled halfway off the bunks. "You've got to stop blaming yourself for what happened at Gallipoli, Kyle. It's not your fault. They wanted to protect you as much as you wanted to protect them."

A small frown appeared on the sleeping Australian's face, and Matthew sighed. "Yeah, I thought you'd react like that." He whispered.

He remembered Avery gazing at him point blank after Kyle had crashed once they had arrived in France. Kyle was barely able to function, and currently under the watchful eye of Scotland as he tried to get some sleep.

"Do you know how many bullets he took? How many times he let himself be killed in a futile effort to save his men? Our men?" Matthew remembered Avery looking off into the distance, pain in their face as they recalled those events of the previous ten months. "He wouldn't even let me go in front of him. Begged me to use his body as a shield if I had too."

"Did you?" Matthew asked.

Avery looked guilty as he admitted it. "Only once. I was pulling him out of a pile of dead bodies to run him back to the command tent, slung him over my shoulder, and someone started shooting at us. Had to shove sticks in his mouth to ensure he wouldn't wake up the whole camp when he- when he came back that time."

From that day forward, Gallipoli had become a cursed word, one that Kyle and Avery would never speak aloud except maybe during their most fearsome nightmares. Even England and France had realized not to mention that name in front of them.

Matthew sighed. He had seen Alfred look like that after the burning of Washington DC during the War of 1812. Lost, hurt, unwilling to even speak of the events that had occurred. He still was. The first independent war was always the hardest.

"You're a lot like him, Kyle. You can't say when you're hurt. You're too damn proud."

***

Alfred woke up in the night a few days later. He was worn to the bone, but Matthew could barely tell from his sudden talkative nature.

"How long have I been dead?" He said out of the blue, startling Matthew, who had been close to nodding off.

"You didn't actually die. Just... Almost dead. For about three days." Matthew said, shaking sleep out of his body when he saw those pristine blue eyes opened wide and gazing right at him. "Arthur, Francis, and I have been taking shifts over you along with Kyle and Avery."

Alfred sat up. "Where's Texas? Can't see shit without... Well, guess you know now too."

Matthew saw the distinctive set of glasses on the nightstand and set them on Alfred's face. "You shouldn't have been allowed in the military with these." He commented, pointing at his own. "I'm only still here because I just got mine and England thinks I make a good nurse."

"As if Wilson could stop me from coming." Alfred said with a slight chuckle as he adjusted the frames, gazing up at his brother with a grin.

"You would've been a bull in the china shop until he let you come." Matthew said, cracking a faint smile.

"I was. He said no, I said 'it'd be a shame if every single plate in the White House broke right before you had guests', and he relented."

They sat in weary silence for a few moments, and then Alfred sighed, the smile fading. "Well, this war is shit like all the other wars, huh?"

"Yeah. You just realizing that?" Matthew asked, the raised eyebrow obvious in his voice.

"No. But I'd say our younger friends have."

Matthew sighed as he realized where his brother was going with this conversation. "Alfred-"

"What happened to them out there? Kyle... Kyle won't smile or talk, and Avery is sleeping more than they're awake. That's not like the Australia or New Zealand I know."

"War has a funny way of making young men grow up fast. We should both know that, Alfred. Don't you remember how your first war was?"

"The revolution wasn't that bad-"

"No, Alfred, your first independent war."

The silence that followed was answer enough.

"Yeah. Now imagine if 1812 was this war, and you'll start to see why Kyle can't smile and Avery is content to sleep whenever they can."

Alfred sighed, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. "I could use a cigarette. Happen to have one?"

"You can have one when you can get out of the bed on your own. I don't want to burn this house down and you with it."

"Okay, 'mom'." Alfred said, sticking out his tongue, and then patting the bed beside him. Matthew laughed softly, and then accepted the invitation to join Alfred in the bed. They had gotten used to sharing when they were little colonies in England's far too large and often cold house, and the shared warmth was appreciated with the coming winter chill having already crept into the house.

When England came in to tell Matthew to go get some sleep, he saw them curled up together and sighed. His two oldest sons, perfectly content to sleep.

So he watched over them for the rest of the night.

France came in at one point, smiled, and they shared a glance.

"Sentimental, Angleterre?" The Frenchman began as if provoking him, but both knew he didn't mean it right now.

England was unable to respond, closing his eyes and thinking of a time when both the boys were still small. He felt a hand take his.

"Allow me to sit with you?"

"Do whatever you like, frog."

***

Kyle was surprised when Alfred announced he would come with them to the ANZAC trenches.

"But your men-"

"Hell, I'll pop in and tell them I'm alive, but I haven't gotten to see the two of you in so long! Besides, England approves, so what does it matter?"

Avery shrugged before grabbing one of their cigarettes. "Fine with me." They said, although both of them knew England undoubtedly didn't approve, even if he had given permission. But who were they to deny themselves some more company? Besides, Kyle couldn't care less if it pissed off England.

Kyle rolled his eyes and nodded. "Fine." He wasn't sure how much of a pleasant company they could be right now. Hell, he currently felt about as moody as Scotland was every time they saw him at the base, which was rare.

Alfred grinned, and as they headed back towards the front lines, he talked their ears off. Kyle honestly tuned about half of it out. Avery passed out again until the car could go no further.

Then they marched in. Kyle and Avery greeted their men, introduced Alfred, and then settled into a little hole in the side.

Kyle knew it was free to claim. It had just been dug out of the ground again yesterday, after some shelling.

Two of his soldiers had been hunkering inside.

The stitches Matthew had carefully done on his nose had been torn open once more, not that he had told anyone.

***

They spent days there, digging out the little shelf until all three of them could huddle inside. It was getting closer to winter, and shared warmth was almost becoming a necessity rather than a luxury, especially with the constant rain.

They were a strange little group, but no one paid any mind to the three strange men, another benefit of nationhood making them hard to separate from the rest of the crowd. Avery was furthest back in the hollow, sheltered by Kyle, who, still being slightly smaller than Alfred, was sheltered by him.

The American was a bloody furnace to cuddle up too, so Kyle didn't really think he could complain too much. The air in their little hollow was almost warm after an hour of resting, so as long as there wasn't any shelling, gunfire, or need for a piss, he could almost get a restful night's sleep (of course, given how life worked, they never had a night where at least one of those events didn't happen). And the American helped chase the nightmares away, making what little sleep they did get even more restful.

But Alfred also wormed his way into the hearts of their men, offering up rum rations and trading candy for cigarettes. Often he would lose during card games on purpose, giving the cigarettes back to the men he had taken them from. It endeared him to the men, and his antics even made Avery smile, a sight that made Kyle happy.

In fact, on the day of the first snow, rather than rain, he almost couldn't complain at all, despite the cold and wetness. It was snow, and it was beautiful. It made the world clean and pure once more, and he could almost ignore the mud and stench and rats that came with trench life.

He was about to ask America how he liked the snow when he heard a whistling noise.

Alfred was so far away, shouting something at him. Everything seemed silent except for that noise he couldn't place. He stood there in confusion.

He should know what that noise was.

Alfred was yelling, trying to run towards him as he blinked in confusion.

Avery suddenly shoved him forward, and he fell to the ground.

And then their tiny little area that they could almost have called home exploded as the shell landed nearly right on top of them.

***

Alfred tore his way back towards Kyle and Avery. Kyle had almost been frozen before the blast, as if he hadn't realized that noise was the sound of a shell. New Zealand had come running towards him and shoved him forward, but now Alfred couldn't see either of them.

"Kyle! Avery!" He screamed as he reached the collapsed remains of their trench, trying to forget the nice little hollow they had slept in during the night. It was the least of his worries at the moment.

Kyle suddenly stuck his head out at the edge of the dirt and mud, sitting up as far as he could. Alfred grabbed him and forced him to gaze into his eyes. "Talk to me Kyle!" He shouted, hearing more shells coming in on either side of them.

"The Turks... It can't be..." Kyle muttered, his eyes meeting Alfred's but not seeing him, hazy with fear and images Alfred couldn't imagine.

Shit. Shell shock. Alfred thought as he heard more unintelligible babble about the Turks and dying men.

He took a deep breath, and turned Kyle's head towards him. Those green eyes were hazy with panicked memories.

"Kyle!"

Nothing.

"Jesus fucking Christ! Ky! Wake up!"

There was still no reaction, and Alfred glanced around one more time to check for any men before shouting.

"AUSTRALIA!"

Suddenly those eyes cleared, startled, and then realizing he was buried up to his waist in mud. Another few seconds passed as he processed the noise of the shells, and then glanced around.

Fear filled him as he turned back to face the American once more. "Alfred! Where's Avery?!"

Alfred looked at the dirt, and swiftly began to dig Kyle's legs out. Kyle took another moment before helping remove himself. As soon as they were free, they both began to dig with their hands, hoping to find the Kiwi.

"Avery!" Kyle shouted, praying for anything, but there was no sound.

Frantic minutes passed as the shelling continued, now coming from both sides. Kyle moved faster with each explosion, memories flashing through his brain at the speed of light.

Please be alive! I didn't drag you out of Gallipoli for you to die here!

Kyle barely even registered that cursed word in his mind, only focusing on the task at hand, that of finding his sibling.

And suddenly his hands felt big curls in soft hair, almost like wool.

"Alfred! Alfred! Here!"

Alfred, digging a few feet away, swiftly moved over. They uncovered Avery's head, a faint trail of blood running down from a small cut over one eyebrow, but nothing too serious. Zea was facing up, which had kept their face out of the mud, likely ensuring their survival. They were unconscious, but breathing. Shells were still going by.

Alfred kept digging as Kyle spoke comforting words to his sibling, partially lifting them out of the mud.

Then they saw the wood.

The side of the trench had collapsed on Avery, effectively pinning them where Kyle would have been if not for their swift actions.

"We're gonna have to wait for the shelling to stop." Alfred said as the shells continued to whistle past.

But Kyle could almost feel the breath growing weaker as Avery's head half lolled against him. Slowly, but surely, it was disappearing.

Avery was dying on him.

No! I didn't throw myself in front of you for this! Wake up, Avery!

"We move them now!" He said, the words coming out louder than he expected them to.

Alfred looked up in confusion. "Kyle?"

"You're as strong as an ox! We move them now!" He snapped, half panicking.

"Kyle, they might see us! Avery will be okay if- if-"

If they die.

"If it was Matthew, would we be having this conversation?" Kyle heard himself say, unsure where it had come from, but the American recoiled as if a physical blow had landed on him from the raw pain in that voice.

Kyle didn't know where the next words had come from either, and he felt tears prick his eyes. For the first time in years, he was on the verge of crying.

Alfred stared at him blankly for a moment once he had recovered, and Kyle continued.

"If they were your brother, wouldn't you do everything you could to keep them from the pain of resurrection? To keep this from happening again ?"

He looked away from the American, unable to say anything else to him, cradling Avery's head in his lap. "Come on, Zea. Please keep breathing! Please! We didn't make it here for it to end like this." Tears were running down his face now. "Zea!" He shouted when Zea's breath rattled, eerily like death, but not quite.

There was no response, and Kyle pressed his face to Zea's. "Please... Please don't leave me... not again..."

Suddenly, almost before Kyle could even process it, Alfred had thrown his weight into the wood pinning Avery down. Kyle blinked in shock, and then saw Alfred slowly lifting the collapsed wood, with all the dirt and mud on top of it. Impossible for a mortal man, although none seemed to be around, thankfully.

He waited until Avery's body was unpinned and carefully pulled it out. America let the wall down, and then gently picked up Avery, whose breathing was still pained and hoarse, but stronger now without the weight on top of them.

"Alright. We're headed for the ambulance. Now." Alfred said, and Kyle nodded at the command.

Kyle stood up as the American raced off, his precious sibling cradled in his arms. He kept close behind.

Shells kept going by. But Kyle didn't hear them.

All he could hear was the footfalls of Alfred, and the soft and ragged breathing of his precious little sibling.

***

Matthew and Francis has the stretcher out and ready when they arrived. Kyle watched Alfred set Avery down, and then they were wheeled away into the hospital as fast as they could be.

And before another word could be said to either of them, England was in front of them, lecturing them both in a voice that was just short of screaming.

"Dangerous, reckless, stupid! All three of you could have been killed! Bloody hell, Alfred, didn't you realize someone might have seen you?!"

Kyle found his voice.

"I made him do it." Kyle said, not that the American needed defending, but something had suddenly snapped inside him, burning like a hot coal in the pit of his stomach.

England stopped, and then groaned. "Kyle! I should have fucking known you would pull a stunt like this-" He started, but Kyle refused to let him finish.

"Does loyalty mean nothing to you?!" Kyle heard himself scream, and he barely noticed Alfred backing away in surprise to leave the former colony and colonizer to argue amongst themselves.

England's look suddenly changed to confusion. "Kyle?"

"You sent us there, Arthur! You sent us and our men to Gallipoli by the thousands! You sent Avery and me there to die!"

"Laddie!" England yelled, stepping forward, but Kyle stepped back, refusing to be comforted while this inner rage continued. After all this time, he had finally found his voice.

"You never came! We fought and fought and fought for ten months, and what for?! I let myself die rather than let Avery be touched by a single bullet! I suppose you don't know what that type of love means, though, do you?! Because you and Alasdair and Owen and Siobhan are always trying to kill each other, even in the middle of this war! Do you ever want to stop their pain for a single second?! Or do you enjoy seeing them suffer on the front lines while you sit high and pretty in the back?! Because I know that if you asked me to choose between myself going home or sending Zea home, I'd send Zea home and die a thousand times before I let them fight in any of your wars ever again!"

England seemed absolutely shocked into silence, and Kyle collapsed to his knees. He was aware of Matthew rushing towards him through the snow, a pale cloth ready. He knew exactly what it was.

"You never came, Arthur. We waited for you, and you never fucking came. We died for you at Gallipoli, and you left us there to rot." He whispered, low enough that only Arthur could hear it.

Suddenly, Matthew was pressing a chloroform rag to his face, and he inhaled, wanting to be stolen away into a world of dreamless sleep.

Anything would be better than dreaming of Zea dead in his arms in Gallipoli once more.

***

America watched Canada lay the unconscious Kyle down gently. England seemed in shock still, unsure what to do with the outburst that had just occurred.

Alfred stepped forward and scooped Kyle up, following Matthew to the room he pointed too. He set Kyle down on the bed, and the boy seemed to sink deeper into the mattress, tear tracks still visible on his dirt covered face.

Matthew sighed after a few moments. "We tried to get him to talk about it. Avery did a little, at least. But he wouldn't say anything at all."

Alfred spoke. "What happened in Gallipoli, Matthew?"

"Kyle threw himself in front of every bullet or weapon aimed at Zea or their men. Even told Avery to use his body as a shield if they needed too. But that didn't mean that Avery was safe. On the day they received the order to abandon Gallipoli... Kyle was trying to help with the wounded. Avery shoved him to the ground..."

Alfred looked at Kyle, deep in sleep, a frown across his face like an expression that did not belong on such a joyous person.

"Took four shots to the chest, one to the head. Gone in an instant. Kyle barely got them onto the boat. The humans tried to convince him to abandon them, of course, but finally one of the higher ups intervened. I... I don't think it was the first time Zea has ever died, but it was the first time Kyle saw them dead. And- he couldn't even speak when he arrived in Europe because of the shock he slipped into after seeing that. New Zealand couldn't leave his side for almost a whole month because of it. England thought he would have to send them both home to keep Kyle from completely falling apart at the seams. I think Wales and Scotland were the only reasons he came out of it. They talked him through it, somehow."

If they were your brother, wouldn't you do everything you could to keep them from the pain of resurrection?

Alfred realized with a start that Kyle had meant that he felt he was responsible for Avery's death in Gallipoli, and for their close call that could still be fatal today.

To keep this from happening again ?

"Avery says he has nightmares most nights still. Refuses to say what they're about, but Avery knows."

If it was Matthew, would we be having this conversation?

Alfred whispered the words. "Whenever he closes his eyes, all he can see is Avery dead in Gallipoli, and all he can feel is the guilt and pain that comes with it."

Matthew nodded, and Alfred sat next to the bed, stroking Kyle's hair. The frown didn't disappear from his face, but some of the tension eased out of his body at the friendly touch. "He blames himself for all of it." Matthew said, watching them interact in silence.

Finally, Francis came in. "Avery is breathing. They're unsure if they'll make it through the night, but for now, things seem to be okay."

Matthew looked up. "And Arthur?"

"Still reeling. I suppose... I suppose that was the first time he spoke of Gallipoli?"

Matthew nodded, and Alfred didn't look at the Frenchman. He studied every furrow and worry line in the face of his young friend, and when Matthew pressed a warm washcloth into his hands, he carefully wiped down the Australian's face until it was clean.

The others finally slipped away to take shifts over Avery and sleep, and Alfred sighed before allowing himself to fall asleep on the cot in the room, keeping a watchful gaze over the former colony that reminded him so much of his younger self.

***

When Kyle awoke that night, he was greeted by America.

Alfred looked at him and took a deep breath before handing him a cup of coffee.

"Kyle... Tell me about Gallipoli." He asked, and after everything the American had done for his brother, Kyle felt the urge to speak. And try to fight it as he might, he couldn't.

And finally, Kyle spoke about those horrific months.

An hour and a half later, he stumbled out of the room and walked down the hall, Alfred half supporting his weight to aide him in his quest. He knocked on the door where England and the other nations present were conferring, and didn't even glance twice when he realized Wales and Scotland were there, or when he heard their sudden silence, meaning that they had likely been discussing him.

He walked in and hugged Arthur, murmuring soft apologies as he clung to his old caretaker. England accepted them immediately, and gave some of his own. After this exchange, Scotland and Wales came right up alongside him, comforting him as they always had when England wasn't around, stroking hair, speaking gentle words that they had always used when the young colonies were frightened or hurt.

When he finally stood again, still shaking, they all followed behind him as he walked down into the hospital and, grabbing a cot, curled up right next to Avery, and fell asleep once more. It didn't seem like much, but it was progress.

He fell asleep, his hands wrapped over Avery's smaller ones, as if begging for forgiveness even in sleep. Slowly, Avery's hand almost curled on its own, forming a tight grip between the two of them.

Forgiveness had been given.

***

They spent weeks in the hospital/base/resting area, almost afraid to leave in case Kyle fell apart the way he had when he had arrived in Europe. It seemed to be the only reason that could explain the lack of a certain Englishman nagging Scotland and Wales, who had kept him sane the last time.

Alfred didn't ask Kyle about it in particular, especially about what the older nations said that calmed him down so effectively, but he finally saw a faint smile crack on that face at one of his jokes after Kyle had spent an hour with Scotland.

"There's the Australia I know." He said with a smile, and Kyle turned away with a snort, hiding the faint hints of a blush coming to his face.

But soon enough, Alfred's commanders wanted him to move on. They were planning some sort of strike further down the lines, where more American soldiers were, and they wanted him there. He had been away from his men long enough, and the higher-ups were becoming very anxious over the whole situation. Even Wales had been forced to return to the front lines as a representative of the United Kingdom.

So as he packed up his bags, he was surprised when Kyle stepped into the room he had been calling his own and closed the door.

"Hey." He said, announcing his presence as naturally as one might walk.

Alfred smiled. "Hey yourself."

There was a long silence, and the Kyle spoke again.

"Thanks for pulling Avery out of the trenches."

"No need to thank me-" Alfred began, but was cut off by Kyle.

"No, there is."

They stood there in silence for a while longer. It was more than the trenches. It was the friendly and comforting face, the ease that Alfred had allowed him to feel, the comfort he had given simply with his presence. The fact that Alfred had kept him from losing Zea again thanks to his own stupidity.

"If there's anything I can do to... To repay that kindness, just let me know." Kyle said, and he meant it. Alfred knew he did.

Alfred tried to respond with a joke, using his teasing tone. "Well, a kiss might be nice."

He turned to go back to packing, but before he could, Kyle was right next to him. He looked up to ask what he was doing, but the Australian prevent him from doing so by pressing their lips together.

Then he took a step back, his young face almost completely red. "Thank you."

Alfred was frozen until Kyle had whirled, partially opening the door in his attempt to flee as fast as he could. Alfred managed to get out a half strangled sentence. "What the hell was that?"

Kyle turned, as though the answer was obvious. "A kiss." He said, still half scarlet from what he had just done.

Alfred suddenly felt bold. "That wasn't a kiss." He marched over and bent down, pressing his lips to Kyle's, and it was like an electric current ran through both of them for a moment. Both pulled back again, slightly breathless, confused, and also excited. Alfred grinned as Kyle turned scarlet again. "That's a kiss."

And before they could say anything else, Francis laughed.

Both turned to see the Frenchman smiling in the hallway, having been walking by at the most inopportune moment. "Oh, we will have to see how Angleterre likes this news. And I guess I did teach you something about romance after all, mon cher..." He said, winking at Alfred.

Kyle barely realized Alfred was out the door until he saw France running. "Francis, you get back here right now!" Alfred shouted, and Kyle felt some of the tension ease out of his body as he half slid into a crouching position, laughing until he couldn't laugh any more.

Finally managing to tame the furious blush on his face, Kyle walked downstairs to where Avery still lay unconscious.

He paused for a moment after reaching the cot. Avery still had yet to wake up after weeks, but they were still breathing, and Kyle had to admit, he was getting a bit curious.

He carefully reached over and undid the top button of their shirt.

"You'd better stop if you want to live." The Kiwi said with an irritated voice.

"Ah, the fair princess awakes after many moons." Kyle said, leaning back with a smile. He guessed it would remain a mystery for now whether or not Zea was hiding a pretty little chest under all those clothes.

"Fuck off, it's been pretty touch and go." Avery said, finally opening their eyes and taking in the sunlight. "So, how long have I been out?"

"Let's just say you probably hold a few new world records among our kind. Specifically for 'longest near death experience'. So, about three weeks. I think Wales left you a letter somewhere... He had to leave yesterday..." He muttered, searching through the area surrounding the cot, but New Zealand caught his arm, and he turned back towards them.

There was a moment of silence between the two siblings, and then New Zealand smiled. "You look happy again."

"Huh?"

"Your eyes are sparkling like you've got a big secret."

Kyle snorted. "Liar."

But both knew he was the liar, and Zea smiled in an instant when they saw a faint blush come to Kyle's cheeks after Zea raised an eyebrow and gave him an eerily British stare. "Alfred, right?"

"Tell England and I will kick you." Kyle responded quietly. "Besides, it was just a kiss."

A loud laugh rose from the Kiwi, alerting Matthew, who was nearby, and leapt up. "Avery!" He said, rushing over and grinning when he saw the little Kiwi flash him a smile.

Within minutes, several people had gathered around the bed, chatting with Avery, including Alfred, who was almost glad threatening France to keep silent until he knew what was happening between him and Kyle had delayed his departure.

But finally, he could delay no longer, and he turned to leave, except he heard another rising to join him. There was a series of quick goodbyes for Alfred from the others, but Kyle followed out behind him. Alfred noticed the raised eyebrow from New Zealand following them before they were swarmed by questions once more from an overeager France, England, Canada, and Scotland.

As they got out of earshot of the others, Kyle spoke softly. "Hey, about what happened earlier..."

Alfred turned, making a knowing hum. "Yes?"

"Was it just a fluke or..."

"Do you want it to be a fluke?" Alfred asked, glancing down at Kyle. He had liked the Aussie and his energy for a long time, but he knew the kid was young and might not want to take things any farther.

Kyle looked up at him and shook his head. "I think... I think I'd like it not to be one."

"Then it isn't." Alfred said with a soft smile, and they were exiting the hospital and heading towards the car. He spoke softly. "I've always liked you,Oz. Not sure I expected this to be how we started, given the war and all, but I'm willing to give it a go if you want too."

Kyle suddenly laughed. "Yeah, kid's gotta have his first romance someday."

Alfred grinned, reaching up and fluffing his hair as they reach the side of the car. "Yeah. I'll see you soon, Oz. Also, if Mattie asks, we are unofficial. Don't need him tearing out my throat for not telling him before I left."

Kyle nodded with a snort as Alfred tossed his bags into the backseat. "Alright."

There is an awkward silence, and then Alfred wraps his arms around him in a tight hug, the farthest he'll go right now. "See you soon, Kyle."

Kyle nods. "Yeah. See you soon."

***

They write letters back and forth after that, and do it constantly. New Zealand and France both laugh when they see one of them arriving at the central base, asking if the other has arrived yet, or left any mail for them.

England, somehow, remains oblivious, thank God. Kyle doesn't need this brand new relationship shut down before it even begins.

So they write to each other. Just about ordinary things, mostly. What they miss about home, happy things they saw. Anything other than the war, whether it be the first bluebird of spring, a woman with a baby they saw on their way back towards the front lines, or an excited kid babbling to a bunch of troops, still innocent, and bringing a smile to the faces of the men.

Kyle ends every letter with the same few lines.

I hope you and I can see each other again soon. I miss you like I'm missing the sunshine and home.

With love,

Kyle

Alfred doesn't have a phrase to end his letters with, but his words convey it enough through the little phrases and laughs Kyle can almost hear rolling off the page.

I miss your smile.

I miss your face.

I miss that stupid piece of gauze on your nose.

I miss your fluffy hair.

I miss your eyes.

The words don't matter as he sits in the trenches and pours over the letters again and again, New Zealand clamoring to read them with laughter when Kyle hunches over to protect them from their prying eyes. These letters give him a faint glimmer of hope he didn't have before, one he hasn't had since he arrived in Gallipoli.

And finally, as the war draws to a close that next winter, even with the aches and misery the flu brings them all, he grins when he sees Alfred smiling with victory as they all reach for drinks, Wales and Scotland there along with all the others who helped fight on the Western front.

And that night, after the others have gone to bed, that victorious man drags Kyle towards his room, and once they're inside, he pins Kyle to the wall, giving him a fearsome kiss, one that they have wanted to have again for over a year, one that leaves both of them wanting more.

Kyle swears he can almost taste the victory on Alfred's lips as he pulls the American towards the bed, not caring if they're caught.

It tastes sweet, as victory should.

And Kyle decides in that moment that he will be with this man for as long as he can.

I plan to have the next work in the series out on April 6th, the 100th anniversary of the US entering World War One.