Author's Notes: Here it is, the fic I've been waiting for since the beginning.

November 11th, 2017, marks the 99th anniversary of the end of World War One by the signing of the armistice. It is known as Remembrance Day in Australia, and Veteran's Day in the US. Please take a moment today to think of those who have died in conflicts everywhere, and hope that one day, we can live in a world of peace.

February 19 th , 1942

Kyle hated these meetings. They pulled him away from his homeland, away from the Allied command in Brisbane, and away from his citizens. The only good thing was being able to take a break from MacArthur. His people were under stress from rationing and three years of war, and the American soldiers preparing to go to war in his homeland didn't help. He felt the worries of his men, the delights of his women, and his own tired body, aching.

Alfred, however... even though he'd been through hell after Pearl Harbor, MacArthur's failure in the Philippines, and the Battle of Wake Island, still appeared vibrant. Ignoring the bandage still on the side of his face, he was almost grinning as he led the meeting, even as he and Ivan snapped at each other.

Kyle felt like he should say something and defend Alfred from the Soviet, but he was exhausted, and besides, Alfred wouldn't thank him for it. He ached intensely, and as the meeting broke apart for a few minutes to ease the rising tensions in the room, he sighed.

He had sat down on a quiet empty bench, stretching for a few moments and allowing the stress of the world to drip away from him.

He turned and saw something odd. Scotland was carefully rubbing England's shoulders as they dropped, obviously avoiding tender places and being surprisingly gentle. Norn sat nearby, half asleep with his head in England's lap, Arthur stroking his hair. Seeing the two brothers and their young relative behaving in such a manner was unusual for the often-squabbling family.

Avery came right over to Kyle, sighing as they looked at Norn. "He's so young... as young as some of our soldiers."

Kyle nodded, looking at Brendan. He was only just heading towards the age of twenty-two as a nation and a personification, and he looked about fourteen in human years.

And England had allowed him onto the RAF planes. England had allowed him to fight, even though he was so young. He was just a baby among their kind, and here he was, playing at war.

Anger filled Kyle for a few seconds, until he saw England suddenly wince as Alasdair must have touched a sore spot, trying to hold himself rigid to keep from disturbing the sleeping boy. Scotland's face filled with concern, and Kyle caught a few words of Scottish Gaelic. Despite not knowing their exact meaning, he understood what they must have meant.

"I'm sorry. That was a bad place."

He remembered the letters from Scotland and Zea, ones that had arrived while he was stationed in the Sahara, asking for help.

Arthur hasn't stopped screaming for three days, Ky. I have never seen him in such pain before...

The young lad's about lost his mind. Please, use any influence you might have over Alfred...

His anger melted somewhat. Owen was trying to keep the empire together for Arthur as best he could, Arthur was trying to fight while bearing the brunt of the nation's pain, and Kyle expected Brendan had volunteered for the task of helping fight, using the argument that he was legally old enough to fight, and could simply pass as a baby-faced soldier. And somehow, Alasdair, despite not liking the task, was holding the members of the UK together in a tenuous peace and representing them on the home front.

And as Kyle watched Arthur quietly continue to stroke Brendan's hair, his anger left him completely. Arthur looked like he hated having Brendan in this room just as much as the rest of them. No matter what his government said, or how his people acted towards Brendan's, Arthur had grown to care for the boy.

The break in the meeting had interesting side effects as it continued. Russia had drifted from the room with some of the smaller countries that were part of the alliance, and China had drifted out after him, likely to discuss politics. China's civil war had merely been put on pause by the Japanese invasion, Kyle was sure. France had excused himself to rest, and no one doubted he needed it. With a shattered kneecap, Francis had to carry opium for when the meetings had finished for the day to have any chance of sleep. With his entire country occupied, he was not doing well. Canada was tiredly glancing around at the rest of them, and America finally sat next to him, quietly speaking.

Discussing Ivan, no doubt. They never get a break.

Avery almost read his mind in that moment. "Do you think Mattie and Ivan will find happiness soon?"

"I think they'll only survive if they agree to base their relationship solely on their own personal feelings, and never bring politics into it. Which is going to be hard, with Alfred and Matthew being so close to each other, and Alfred and Ivan finding themselves on opposites sides of a growing divide." Kyle said after a moment's thought.

There was a pause, and Avery laughed. "Sometimes you're pretty astute, brother."

"Thanks." Kyle said dryly, shoving the Kiwi, and a quiet, yet playful fight ensued.

Until something suddenly shifted deep inside him, an unsettling wave of some uncertain feeling washing over him. Avery landed a light punch, but Kyle felt his head spinning a little, leaving him slightly disoriented. A hand rushed to catch his weight as he felt himself sway, and then the next one to his forehead, trying to massage out the sudden soft pain in his skull.

"Kyle?" Avery said, concern filling their voice.

"Sorry, Av... Just feeling a bit off..." Kyle said, trying to take a few deep breaths and relax, so he could attempt to figure out what had just happened.

A pair of voices quieted down, and then Kyle heard Scotland speaking.

"You alright, laddie? You looked green in the gills for a few seconds there..."

He turned to see England and Scotland's gazes had settled on him, genuine concern in their eyes. He nodded, and then checked his watch.

It was still early in the morning down under. Another shifting feeling hit him, and Avery put a hand on his back this time, steadying him as he suddenly swayed in his seat.

There was a quiet and swift round of dialogue, and then Alasdair walked over, getting between him and Avery, setting his own hand where Zea's had been. Almost paternal in nature.

"Alright, laddie, what just happened?" Alasdair asked calmly.

"Felt like something... something shifted inside... head spinning and aching... and a little bit of nausea..." Kyle said, and suddenly found himself struggling for breath. He felt his chest suddenly tighten, as if in apprehension, and his breathing grew even harder. "Chest... chest tight... hard to breathe..." He tried to get through in gasping little breaths, panic starting to build as he attempted to figure out what was happening.

Alasdair looked terrified suddenly, and spoke in loud and rapid French to everyone else in the room, his tone changing from calm to somewhat alarmed. Arthur shot up, waking Norn so fast that Brendan managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. Alfred and Matthew's conversation came to a halt, Matthew swiftly standing and coming over. Alfred looked lost, like he had only caught a few words.

Kyle didn't like how he was suddenly crowded by the others, and England's hand shot out towards his forehead, as if checking for fever.

Kyle slammed it down before it touched him. "I'm not a... a child..." He managed to get out in shaky breaths, but then Avery's hand hit his brow, almost more of a slap then a gentle touch.

"You're feverish." The Kiwi stated after a moment, eyes filled with concern.

Then Alfred was parting the crowd to get to Kyle. "What's going on?"

"Ask them since..." Kyle felt his breath catch suddenly, and this time it was painful. Very, very painful. The gasp that escaped him signaled that, everyone tensing at the noise.

Alasdair started to speak in French, slower so that America could catch it, but Kyle sent a foot flying into his shin, earning him a foul look from the older man.

"Tell me what the... the hell is happening!" He spat out, angry that they always did this to keep him and Avery out of the loop. They had done it in the first great war. He wasn't about to let them do it again, especially when it involved him.

"You're acting the way Arthur did the first time he was bombed in the Blitz." Scotland finally said. "Shortness of breath, fever, head spinning, disorientation, and nausea."

Arthur nodded, stepping closer in some attempt to help, but Kyle shoved him away. He sat up taller, fighting past the nausea and taking deeper breaths. Alfred's eyes were full of concern and confusion.

"I didn't have any of those symptoms when Pearl Harbor was hit." He finally said, not addressing anyone in particular.

"It might have been because it's not part of your mainland." Arthur offered up in explanation, although really, how things affected them nation to nation was always so vague. After all, they were merely ideas inhabiting human bodies.

Alfred stepped forward, but Kyle shook his head, rising to his feet. Everyone tried to reach out to him, but he stopped them with a glare.

Slowly, the feelings faded. His skin was still warm to the touch, but he pushed past it. Avery took his hand, and he allowed that. If the previous war had taught him anything, it was that shoving the Kiwi away to "protect them" only made them more scared and concerned.

"I need some water." He muttered, walking for the hallway door, Avery's hand still in his for the moment. "Then I'm going to rest in my room for a while."

The others watched him go, even Norn looking concerned. Alfred looked like he wanted to follow, but he wouldn't. Kyle had an independent streak as big as Alfred's. It just manifested in different ways, and sometimes he needed to do things on his own.

Avery being the exception this time, rather than the American.

He got into the hallway and took a few sips from a drinking fountain before standing tall once more, and Avery spoke quietly as he let their hand fall from his.

"Kyle... You really are showing the same symptoms Arthur did. I was with him when it happened. It might be better to stay with the others so that if something does happen, we can treat you. If you collapse in your room with no one around, how will we be able to help?"

"I just needed space for a moment, Avery." He said with a sigh. "If it really bothers you that much, I'll stay close. It's just that they were crowding around, and..." He began, but his breath caught again, the urge to be sick coming back full force, and his balance went haywire.

One moment he was standing, the next he was on the ground, completely numb and confused, New Zealand shouting his name in surprise.

And then he felt the striking pain. Like heat searing across his entire body. Burning him from the inside out.

He opened his mouth and screamed.

In seconds, the others were out in the hall, and he felt Alfred's arms lifting him off the floor, carrying him back into the room. He heard confused shouting in Russian and Chinese and French as the others rushed back towards them, and he heard England aggressively trying to tell them all to fuck off, that this was none of their concern.

And he heard his own voice, screaming in wordless pain.

"ENGLAND, THE RADIO! AND GODDAMNIT, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT 'FAMILY MATTERS'! THEY'RE OUR ALLIES!" America boomed over the others, and they obeyed him.

Kyle shut his eyes, another wave of pain washing over him, and he felt himself being set down on a hard surface, likely a table. He heard himself screaming again, and wondered how he could hear anything else.

Everything seemed detached from him besides the pain. Even his own voice seemed distant, like an echo rather than the sounds he was currently making.

"Kyle! Kyle!"

His eyes opened, water from tears making it hard to see. He could hear Avery's ragged voice, aching as it had been in Gallipoli, every time he resurrected. Avery was right next to him, scared once more.

"Come on, Oz..." Alfred said, his voice just as scared, but in a separate way. "Come on, stay awake..."

He tuned out the other voices, focusing on theirs, fighting the pain. He saw Avery's curls through the haze, and Alfred's stupid cowlick.

"Kyle, try to talk to us... Don't black out..." Alfred asked. Kyle knew he needed to focus on other things for a few moments besides the pain, and he threw his imaginary anchors around the two people he held most dear.

"Hurts..." He managed, trying to make it clear he was fighting the pain as best he could.

Zea looked scared, and Alfred nodded. "Yeah. I know. Where is it hurting, Kyle? Can you tell us where the attack is happening?"

Kyle was about to answer when he felt another wave of pain, and his anchors slipped. He screamed, thrashing, and trying to curl in on himself. He heard the others shouting again in the distance, as if they weren't directly around him in concern.

But thankfully, his brain was working just well enough for him to answer Alfred's question.

"Dar-Dar-DARWIN!" He managed to cry, knowing from the brief flashes he was seeing. His people screaming. His people fighting.

His people dying.

He heard Alasdair speak to Alfred.

"We should give him something for the pain, lad. He's going to be screaming and hurting unless we do... I can administer it. I've had enough practice."

Kyle knew what Scotland was suggesting. Enough morphine to knock him out and ease his pain for the moment. He feared what would happen if that was allowed. Waking up, and knowing his men, women, and children had died while he had slept dreamless in a morphine haze. A betrayal of their suffering.

He threw his anchor again, towards Alfred, and spoke.

"No-no morphine. Please!"

It was a desperate plea, and he felt a hand touch his face gently. He was quiet for a moment, focusing on its gentle warmth and trying to ignore the pain in his body.

"Alright." America's voice was soft, and then those arms were lifting him once more.

"Alfred, what are you doing?! The boy needs morphine!" Arthur shouted, and Kyle felt his whole body slump into the American's chest, biting back the screams and taking strength from the steady heartbeat underneath those muscles.

"I'm doing what Kyle would have done for me had he arrived before Pearl Harbor." Alfred answered. "I'm taking him to my room and tending to him the way he wants to be tended to, and if any of you have problem, you can just try to make it past me! But I will not be above killing you and making it so you can't resurrect for days should you interfere!"

Kyle felt Alfred moving, and the disconnect between his mind and body showed again. He heard himself screaming, but he didn't even know his mouth was open. He closed his eyes, and just tried to focus on Alfred's gait and warmth, the gentle rocking motion almost soothing as he quickly walked away from the others.

Finally, they reached a room, and the door opened. He heard it close, and a lock clicked into place, and then he was being set on a soft, oversized bed.

Alfred began stroking his hair and his other hand firmly gripped Kyle's. He felt some of the pain become ignorable as he focused on that touch rather than the pain. Finally, his eyes opened, and Alfred sat above him.

"When they first hit Pearl Harbor, I blacked out from the shock of it. But I woke up again within minutes. The entire time it was happening, I just wanted you there with me, holding me and comforting me to help make it ignorable. Can I try to help you?"

It was a quiet question, and Kyle nodded.

Alfred held him close, kissing him, running his hands up and down his back, hushing and comforting him as the torment continued. Kyle lost his voice at some point, and slammed his fists into the American's chest, crying out wordlessly for his people and land. Alfred bore every pain he could, blue eyes swimming with worry.

But his touch forced Kyle to return his mind to his body, and allowed him to have something to focus on other than the pain. Gentle kisses paired with searing blows, strong heartbeats paired with the sound of anti-aircraft fire, and the presence of Alfred's strong body next to his own aching and broken one.

Somewhere in the middle of this, Kyle realized Alfred was speaking softly.

"Don't worry, Ky. Kiku's going to hurt for this. We'll kick Japan all the way back to his stupid little islands and make sure he never has the strength to come close to you ever again. And I'll make sure he doesn't reach Zea. I swear it. Now please, take a deep breath. That's it. Yeah, just like that. In and out. Deep breaths..."

Kyle pressed his face to the American's chest, tired. They hadn't touched like this for almost three months, since he had left America in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor to head home and help prepare his homeland for war on yet another front. Alfred's arms wrapped around him again, and he tried to tune out the pain to the best of his abilities.

After a half hour of hell, he felt the new waves of pain suddenly cease, and he felt his body partially return to normal.

"Ky?" Alfred asked with terror in his voice when suddenly he went limp in the American's arms.

"I- I think it stopped..." He managed weakly, and then Alfred was holding him close again. He pressed his face back to Alfred's chest and inhaled.

During wars, nations tended to take on a particular scent over their usual odor. Kyle could smell gunpowder, grease, fuel, and blood all mingling together, radiating off the American. But underneath, he could still detect a softer scent. Fragrant flowers from the plains, mountain snow, the sea spray of two different oceans.

He allowed himself to be lost in that scent for a few moments, until he realized how worried the others must be. Especially his sibling.

"Can... can Avery come in here?" He asked quietly. "Just Avery and you. No one else."

Alfred was quiet, and then nodded. He knew there was a deep bond from their shared trauma at Gallipoli, along with having grown up together as colonies. "Just a moment. I'll be back as fast as I can."

Less than a minute later, the Kiwi was there, and he felt a cool rag on his face, and Avery's soft voice speaking while Alfred carefully removed most of his clothes and began to treat his wounds.

He glanced down once and saw the large bruises, cuts, gashes, and burns. Avery touched his face, bringing his attention back to them.

"Just keep looking at me, okay?"

Kyle nodded, trying to simply focus on Avery, even when Alfred disinfected a cut or perhaps put a bandage on a little too tight (he did nearly take a foot to the face once or twice, but he skillfully dodged away from the injured Aussie's weak attempts).

But the worst was a massive cut under his collarbone. Jagged, as if the skin had been torn rather than cut. Alfred called for a medical kit to be brought, and stitched it up swiftly, before too much blood could be lost.

After Alfred had finished tending to his wounds, they heard a knock on the door.

"What is it?" Alfred growled, going to the door in rage. Kyle knew that if it wasn't Matthew on the other side of the door, whoever was there was not going to like what happened to them next.

Thankfully, it was the Canadian when the door opened.

"Arthur wanted me to see him and report back. He also says that you need to discuss plans for the Pacific front immediately, in order to... you know what..."

Kyle could almost feel those blue eyes settle on him, keeping his eyes closed as he decided the best thing to do now would be to sleep for as long as he could.

"Protect both of them." Alfred finished, his voice firm and hiding nothing. Avery's grip grew tighter on Kyle's hand, and Kyle tightened his own in response. Alfred sighed, and then turned and directed his next words to Avery.

"Come get me if anything changes."

"I will." Avery said, and Kyle weakly opened his eyes to look at his lover.

Alfred's gaze was warm and loving, but something icier lay behind that warmth, something deadly. Kyle knew it wasn't aimed at him, but he had seen that look before.

They were sitting, watching the vote in Congress.

"Hey, we're gonna be okay. We'll win this war."

"Yeah. I know."

Alfred had rose, still a little shaky, but his eyes were cold and angry. There was something in those eyes that Kyle had never seen before. He was unsure whether he should find it beautiful, dangerous, or both.

He settled on both.

Alfred was growing into that unnatural strength Zea had spoken of in 1917. And for a moment, instead of the man he loved, Kyle saw a deadly snake ready to strike. It was a strike to defend those he loved, but it scared him.

Alfred didn't notice the fear, turning to follow Matthew and leave, but Avery did. As soon as the door was closed, they spoke.

"Kyle?"

"China was right. He is a demon. And he's going to be the king." Kyle said.

Avery didn't understand, and Kyle slumped back into the bed, closing his eyes and trying to breathe.

***

Alfred was livid. That much was clear to all of them as he sat down, Canada next to him.

Finally, like the hiss of a predator, he spoke.

"Japan."

England nodded. "How much of our navies can we volunteer to protect them?"

Ivan sighed. "I can't give you anything for the Pacific right now. I'll keep taking the brunt in Europe. But when Europe is over, I will turn my troops around and be right there to help."

Alfred nodded, serious. France carefully stood, tottering over, until he was next to Alfred. "I wish I could offer some help for you and him..."

"No, don't worry. You just need to keep resisting and fighting as best as you can. Arthur, can we still smuggle information in and out to Lars from the government in exile?"

"For the current moment." Arthur said.

"Good. I want as much of your navy and his navy as possible in the Pacific. He should be interested. After all, East Indies provides him with significant value. You all heard my island-hopping strategy this morning. We should be able to implement it soon enough. I'll talk to Zea and Oz, once he's able to stand up again, and get their ships too."

"All under MacArthur?" Matthew asked. Alfred nodded.

Alasdair stepped forward, slamming his fist onto the table. "In Brisbane! Alfred, you're just painting a bigger target on the lad's back!"

The raw emotion in Scotland's voice startled them all, even Arthur. But Alfred stood, his own voice tight.

"I lost the Philippines. We don't have a foothold in the East Indies. Pearl Harbor is gone. There were two options left to us then. Australia or New Zealand. I don't need to tell you who volunteered to protect his younger sibling, do I?"

Scotland looked taken aback, and then hurt, and then he almost growled as he stormed from the room, but they all saw a look of pain in Alfred's face, as if he agreed with the Scotsman's words.

"I don't want to do this to him. But... but I know him, and if he finds out we've put Zea in more danger to try and protect him, well... we all know what his reaction will be."

Arthur sighed. "And if we moved, Japan would sense the weakness and move on his mainland properly. Things would only get worse for him, and we'd be dealing with an outright invasion, rather than just bombings. If we lose him, we'll lose the Pacific war."

Alfred nodded, rubbing a sore spot on his arm. He had ignored it, but some of the ships in Darwin had been his. However, his injuries were minor compared to Oz's. He would tend to them soon enough.

Matthew noticed, and let out a silent sigh. No one besides Alfred noticed it, and he was glad. England and France would have fussed, and he didn't want Russia to notice anything amiss.

Turning to Yao, he spoke. "China, you've seen Japan at his worst before. Is there anything you can tell us?"

China seemed uneasy, and then rose. He was suffering as well, but his immense age seemed to have made him better at hiding the pain. He carefully spoke.

"Japan has changed in the last 80 years. I no longer know him. May your God have mercy on the boy."

Then he turned and left, clearly having nothing left to say.

There was silence, and finally, Alfred rose. He felt their eyes on him, worried, afraid, analyzing this boy for weakness and cracks that might lead to him making a massive mistake they could only prevent, rather than repair. One which might lose them this war, could he not keep his heart and head separate.

"Thank you all. Is there anything else anyone needs to say, or should we call the meeting for the day?"

England opened his mouth to speak, except a sudden scream rose up again.

They all recognized the sound.

Alfred was out of the meeting room as fast as he could be, shoving back into his own room past Alasdair in the doorway. Scotland had apparently slipped in to see Kyle, and Avery was desperately trying to help the Australian, who was thrashing again in pain and misery.

"Alfred, perhaps the morphine?" Scotland was almost pleading now. Alfred was about to agree as he heard the screams of Kyle once more, breaking his heart in half, except Kyle hissed.

"No! Please!"

It was obvious he was speaking to them, begging not to be drugged in any fashion.

It was 11:58 in Darwin.

Alfred kicked Scotland out of the room, and Avery left of their own volition, knowing that in the moment, they weren't wanted. Alfred pulled Kyle close, wishing he could absorb the pain for the person he loved most on this earth.

He held the Australian close as he lost his voice once more from the sheer pain and shock, and Alfred gritted his teeth as Kyle went limp from the pain, unable to even scream or fight.

For three days, it continued. Alfred felt the fear and terror of Kyle and the others, refused pleads to give him morphine against his wishes, and tended to Kyle's growing collection of wounds.

The cut under his collarbone tore open constantly, and one day, exhausted, Matthew appeared and helped him stitch it closed, just as he had tended to the Aussie's nose in the last war, and how Alfred had tended to Ivan during his civil war, when he had stumbled into Versailles.

Matthew finally reached down and touched the mark. Kyle was asleep, barely, exhausted from the pain. Alfred was almost asleep himself, his hands shaking. He was unable to do anything to help the person he loved most except watch, helpless.

Matthew reached out and took his hand. "Alfred..."

Alfred turned, and he saw a gaze in his brother's eyes, one he remembered giving once before. Over Ivan's body in Versailles while they waited for him to resurrect, living in constant terror that it would never happen as the days passed.

It had taken three days for Ivan to breathe again. For three days, Kyle had suffered.

Matthew's gaze said it all.

The grip tightened, and Alfred set his face in his brother's shoulder.

"I'm scared..."

"He needs you. You can help him."

There was silence.

"Alfred... you won us the last war... You're our only chance for winning this one. He needs you. And you... you need him."

Finally, Matthew let his hand go.

"Rest now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

As Matthew tidied the room, Alfred gingerly got himself onto the bed, staring at Kyle's sleeping face. Tight with tension, bruised and cut.

Alfred waited for Matthew to leave, and then carefully took Kyle's hand in his, kissing it gently.

Those green eyes flickered open for a moment, hazy with pain and exhaustion.

Alfred gazed at his lover. "Go back to sleep. You need it."

"Need you here..." Kyle murmured, and he pulled Alfred's hand closer to his heart. "Promise me if something happens, you'll protect Av and-"

"You are not going to die, Kyle." Alfred muttered. "Not to the point of no resurrection. I swear that to you. I will not let it happen!"

Kyle smiled slightly. "You're the hero of the whole world, not just me."

"Without you, there's little point being the hero for everyone else." Alfred responded. "Now... please try to get some sleep. I'll be here if you need me."

As Kyle finally drifted off to sleep, Alfred gently pulled the Australian close, listening to the beat of his heart, the sound of his breath, feeling the warmth he radiated and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Kyle's face eased as he settled into Alfred's arms, and slowly a soft and nearly invisible smile appeared on his face.

He had not deserved this in any way. Alfred kissed his head, and settled down.

But his mind would not be quiet, and he thought of the last few days.

Japan would suffer for this. He would suffer as much as Kyle had, if not more.

On December 6 th , he had told Franklin to sign the papers for that blasted project. The one they were calling Manhattan .

Holding Kyle tight as he slept, he felt his eyes narrow.

The might of science will be unleashed on you, Kiku. You will not escape my wrath.

May your gods have mercy on your soul.

***

Kyle barely remembered the rest of the war. Unrest, exhaustion, pain, loss, death, and the sheer weight of responsibility had worn him down to almost nothing. It was another war.

And war was hell.

But Alfred carried him. He knew his people had already been drifting from Arthur. They had been since Gallipoli. Since the Great White Fleet. And now they found their new place of rest, with Alfred's nation and people, as their personification already had.

Even as they both felt the weight of war, Alfred remained strong and aggressive. He didn't stop.

Kyle could see more of that demon every day. But the demon slipped away when it came to him, and for a moment he saw the same man he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

But then the war made itself known again, and the demon returned.

Speaking quietly with the other allies one night while Alfred was gone, he heard Russia sigh and mutter something to Matthew, who had suddenly stiffened, and then shrieked abuse at Ivan in his native Slavic tongue, in a move that had shocked them all. Then the Canadian had stood and stormed off to wait elsewhere, alone except for his thoughts.

Later, stumbling over and offering Mattie a cigarette, which he accepted, Kyle spoke. "What'd Ivan say?"

"He said 'America has no friends. America only has interests.'"

Kyle paused, and then sighed. "I think we both know that's true, Matt."

Matthew whirled, and Kyle gazed at him tiredly as he began his rant. "You think so little of him?! After everything he does for all of us?! After everything he's done for you?!" Matthew snapped, anger in his eyes.

"Not of Alfred, Matt. However, I do think that when I see those icy eyes challenging Russia, or staring at a map. Alfred loves us and cares. America... he's a different man entirely. He's cold and calculating. He's a demon, and he's the new king of hell."

Matthew paused, and then his shoulders slumped. "I suppose you're right."

They smoked for a while, old injuries tiredly reminding them that unlike Alfred, they were suffering physically from rationing and economic issues. Kyle rubbed at the scar on his nose. Unlike in Gallipoli and the first war, it no longer bled. But the constant throbbing reminded him of his people's suffering.

Finally, Matthew spoke. "So, Kyle still stands with Alfred, but does Australia stand with America?"

"Yes. Australia has interests too, and can no longer rely on England to fulfill them. Australia stands with America."

"I suppose that's the best we can hope for." Matthew said, and then tiredly, they returned to the camp.

Kyle felt Avery lean up against him when he sat back down, and he threw a blanket over the Kiwi.

"Any mail from Owen?" He asked quietly enough to avoid the attention of the others.

The Kiwi shook his head just enough for Kyle to know the answer, and then drifted off to sleep.

Across the camp, Matthew and Ivan were apologizing and trying to set aside politics for just a few hours, as near impossible as that was for them. Alfred returned to camp with news, and England and France quietly slept for as long as they could.

Kyle sighed.

This war had to end soon.

***

It was August 6 th , 1945. Europe had already surrendered to an Allied victory. Russia was preparing to bring troops into Japan.

Kyle, however, was being invited to join in on an American bombing mission. Alfred's smile was full of false warmth, his eyes ice. Kyle wanted to refuse, but something told him that it wasn't Alfred speaking right now. It was The United States of America.

So, he allowed himself to be pulled along, despite how little he wanted to be here.

He didn't understand why there was only a few escort planes, and one bomber. But as they stood on the Enola Gay , flying over the city of Hiroshima, America suddenly beamed.

"Do you how to tell when a war is about to end, Australia?" He whispered, almost as if whispering one of his most prized secrets to his lover.

"How?" Kyle asked, wondering in terror what he was about to witness.

"There's only one plane." He said, pulling Kyle close in a near embrace.

The bomb fell. Kyle watched.

That brilliant flash was enough for him to know that whatever Alfred had done, there was no going back from what he had just done. He thought of England, once the king of the world, and then he looked at Alfred.

He was grinning, but not as the man he loved. No, this was the blue-eyed devil they called America.

The old king is dead. Long live the new king. He thought in misery.

That night, he stumbled into New Zealand's room back at their command center. Avery, having just been reunited with Owen who had joined them for the final assaults, stood up and rushed forward to catch him as he stumbled.

Kyle sat in the chair Owen hurriedly offered him and held his head in his hands.

"My God, what have we done? What have we done?" He murmured over and over again, until he could speak no more.

They didn't have to ask. They had all heard by now.

Avery wrapped their arms around him. "What we must, brother. We have done what we must."

A few days later, after Alfred had dropped a second bomb on Nagasaki, Japan surrendered.

***

Kyle was sitting numbly in his tent when Alfred came in.

"Hey."

Kyle didn't turn. There was a pause, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Kyle, if I hadn't done that, we would have had to invade the mainland. Who knows then how many might have died? Your troops as well as mine-"

"I know why you did it, Alfred. I understand. But... but it's changed you! It's changed the world!" He finally turned to gaze at the man he loved, full of confusion and fear. He hoped his eyes carried the hidden emotions that had been growing within him for years.

And they must have, for Alfred finally saw that look of fear for the first time, no longer blinded by revenge, and he recoiled. They both knew something had changed in that moment. Now their future rested on a simple decision.

America and Australia would remain friends. It was in their best interests to do so. But Kyle and Alfred both knew that their personal relationship was in danger right now. And Kyle had the power to make or break it.

He couldn't answer in that instant. He turned away. "Russia and you will soon be at war." He murmured. "Another war. More death."

"I pray not. I really do, Kyle. He was my friend once. Matthew still loves him... I... I don't want to be at war anymore right now. I want there to be peace, at least for a while. I want everyone to be rebuilt! Hell, I even want that Japanese bastard to survive what I did to him." Alfred's voice had grown more broken as he spoke. "I just want the world to survive, and I want you to be at my side while it does."

Kyle wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so badly. For almost twenty-eight years now, he had stayed with the American through thick and thin. Surviving together in the great war, laughing together in the twenties, struggling through the thirties, and then fighting side by side in the forties. They had been the other's reason to smile during the worst times, and each other's place of happy rest during the best.

Kyle took a few deep breaths, and then stood. He kept himself turned away from the American, and spoke quietly.

"I always heard stories from the others when I was young. About the foolhardy colony who had fought Arthur, and struck out to forge his own path. I was just like him, they told me. And I knew he saw it in me as much as the others did. China spoke of you as a young demon, scrambling to become the king. He said you would either make it or disappear, as so many do."

Alfred said nothing.

"Then I met you. And I... I felt something cry out and tell me that this was someone I should care about. We ran around like children... god, we were so happy and carefree then. And then there was a dock in France. Avery said it would be best if we stuck with you, because they could see what you were going to become. And then... then I fell in love with you."

Alfred stepped forward, but Kyle pulled away, not finished yet.

"And in Versailles I watched you do what you had too to try and save Russia. During the twenties, I watched you laugh. During the Depression, I watched you try to protect and help your people. I saw it all, through your letters and words. And then this war came. I wanted you to stay away. God, I didn't want you in danger. But then it turned out we were the ones in danger, and you were the only one strong enough to save us. Avery's words were right. It was the best decision to stick with you."

This time, he let Alfred set a hand on his shoulder. He put his hands on the back of his chair, tightening his grip slightly, breathing.

"And even now... when you've obtained the power of... the power of the gods! Even now, I can see that that was a good decision. The world is changing. We are changing... Australia and America will remain friends."

"And Kyle and Alfred?" Alfred asked quietly after a moment's pause.

"It may take a while for Kyle to get used to this. So much has changed in the world, just over the last month... but Kyle and Alfred will remain together. Because they're both too stubborn to know when to stop, because they're so alike." He finally turned to face Alfred. "And because Kyle knows he would regret it if he took any other path, because this stupid Yankee has become his best mate and his lover, and he wouldn't have it any other way."

Alfred suddenly beamed, those traces of the world's new king disappearing as he pulled Kyle into a hug. "That stupid Yankee wouldn't have it any other way either."

Kyle snorted as he saw the old Alfred again for a moment. Laughing and smiling, ready to take on the world with laughter rather than war.

Something had changed, something forever altered. It was going to be tough.

But he was ready to face it together, Alfred at his side.

There would be more wars, and more hardships ahead. But with each other, they knew they could do it together.

America only had interests.

Alfred had a family.

And Kyle was part of it.

That was all they needed.

Author's Notes: So here it is, the story that gave the series its name, the first story I ever started to write in this entire series. For nearly a year now, this series and this story have been a work in progress. I'm happy to announce that, with one more work, this series will be complete.

However, for those who want more, I have considered a side series set in the same universe as this series, but that series will not be affected by time constraints like this one was. I want to have posted every work in this main series by the end of 2017. This is a challenge I set myself, and I will abide by it. Expect to see possible future fics in a side series involving New Zealand, Canada, and Scotland and Wales much more heavily, with Australia and America as supporting characters in their stories.

But as for the final fic in the Darwin series proper, look for A Century of Love on EITHER December 7th or December 31st of 2017. And whether this is your first venture into this series, or you've been with me in this writing journey since the beginning, thank you so much.