Thank you for clicking on my first fanfiction! I'm here to warn you that the way I portray the characters may not be what you see in the anime. I also would like to say that I DO NOT OWN HETALIA IN ANY WAY! And now that that's out of the way, enjoy my portrayal and review please!

Austria:

There was a stirring in the air, a change in the wind. He could feel it. It ruffled through his brown hair, pushed against his glasses, caused his cloak to flap around. Opening his mouth slightly, he tasted salt in the air. He frowned. The nearest ocean was down to the south, through Slovenia and Croatia, or Italy if you were standing in a different spot. Pushing his hand through his hair, he thought. The wind wasn't coming from the south. The west. It was coming from the west.

He turned, slowly, narrowing his eyes at the setting sun. Yes, the wind was stronger this way. The Atlantic Ocean. Through Switzerland, on the other side of France. He frowned deeper. What could it mean?

Returning inside, he looked around the house and sighed. He had used to be a great power, and now? It was as if the world was forgetting him. He ran his hands over the banister as he climbed to the second story.

The phone rang the instant his feet touched the top of the stairs. He pushed through the door and walked slowly into his office. Glancing at the caller ID, he picked up the phone and brought it to his ear. There were hurried breaths from the other side of the line.

"Hungary? Is there something the matter?" He pictured his former wife, drawing out her figure in his mind. She was sharp crescendos and booming soprano notes.

Breaths, sharp, harried breaths. Staccato. They were making him nervous. This was unlike her. "Hungary, what is the matter?"

"Austria. Austria – there is terrible trouble." Her voice was worried, almost frantic. It made Austria even more nervous. This was not like her at all.

He took a swing. "In the west?"

There was a jostle of movement, and Austria almost smiled. That was more like Hungary. She was nodding to his question, forgetting the phone. When you had lived as long as they had, it was hard to forget old habits. "Yes. Yes, Austria. And I think it's coming here."

"What's coming?" Austria's eyes played over his office. He fingered with the phone's cord and pretended like he was strumming a harp. Music. That was ever-changing, yet always the same.

Rest. Rest. Rest. Rest. A whole rest. Unlike Hungary, not like her at all. Then her voice came, piano. Soft.

"Austria, it's… England, France, America… They've all vanished, Austria. No one has seen them in two days."

Confused, Austria repeated what she had said. "They have… vanished? How can no one have seen them? Countries don't just vanish. There have been no wars, no earthquakes! Nothing to cause a country to die."

"There was a note."

"Left to you?"

"No, left to Spain. He came here to make sense of it all." Pianissimo. Austria was struggling to hear her now.

Rest. Rest. Rest. Rest. Another whole rest. "Well, are you going to read it?"

"It – it's addressed to Spain."

"And? He brought it to you, didn't he?"

Rest. "Yes, because it said to."

Something cold clutched at Austria's throat. "What? Hungary, read the note."

Gulp. That was not something easily translated into music. It made Austria feel cold and terrified. No music in that noise. That meant that something was terribly wrong.

"Spain, bring this to Hungary. Have her call Austria. I have England, France, and America. They will join me in time, of their own accord, once they see that I am right. Others support me. They will become your enemies, Austria. Because this is payment for all these years I have had to hide."

The coldness spread. The blood pumped in Austria's head and he clutched the phone harder.

"Those who oppose me will become like you will. It is time for you to hide."

Crescendo. A tension building crescendo.

"I'll be coming for you; I'll be coming for you both. Signed, the awesome me."

Austria dropped the phone. He knew that Hungary could hear when he said, quite loudly and only that way out of surprise, "Prussia."

America:

His glasses were foggy. He was coughing. It was cold and damp and smelled of potatoes. He could hear his captor pacing. He was itching to clean his glasses, but his hands were tied behind his back. He couldn't even tell who it was that was slumped next to him. The person who had been tied up and was now standing, fully freed, next to the captor was a mystery too.

The person slumped on him was asleep. He could tell that the other was shorter than he, but strong. There were muscles that could be felt in their contact. He thought that this person was someone that an Italian would be scared of. But not he. He was the hero.

At least, he had been. Until he had been jumped on and brought here. Wherever here was. It had been a while now. At least he was being fed. Granted it was nasty stuff, but at least it wasn't British food. He smiled. Though British food wouldn't have been that bad. It was the food of his youth.

"What are you smiling at?" The captor. He knew that voice. Desperately trying to place it, it came to him the moment that the captor leaned down and cleaned off his glasses. Blinking, he stared up at the albino face. It was Prussia.

"Huh. I thought you were dead."

Prussia stood up and angrily stepped away. "West kept me alive, down here in this basement. But that's not really important. What's important is that I could use your help for a great cause."

"You've got a funny way of showing it."

The albino turned away and the person who had been tied up was shown. France.

"America, just agree to him and he'll let you up."

America cocked his head and let his eyes wander until he found Prussia again. "No one is explaining anything."

Prussia squatted down in front of America and laughed. Maniacally, America thought. "Revenge, hero. You want it too, I just know it. I've been down here for too long, America. And why? Because of that Austrian."

"You want revenge on the music man?"

"No, not exactly. I want revenge on that person who nearly killed me. He was Austrian. But he's dead now."

America tried not to let his confusion bleed onto his face. "You mean Hitler? You do realize that he ran Germany, not Austria, and that he even invaded his birth country, which was Austria, yes, I'll give you that, and forced them to send him troops?"

"That's what they want you to think. They didn't want you occupying them, no they did not. They tricked you, America. They tricked the Allies into thinking they were innocent. France here sees this. Can't you? Won't you join me?"

Narrowing his eyes, America thought about the ropes cutting into his skin and the potato juice he'd been forced to drink. He longed for a hamburger. But… Austria had never done anything to him. He hardly knew the guy.

"Give me time to think." Anger flooded into him as he saw the expression on Prussia's face. "I can think you know."

Prussia smiled. "Yes. Yes, of course. Take all the time you need. I'll just be talking to him when he wakes up, then."

America was instantly reminded of the person slumped next to him. He turned his head. Shock rippled through him.

It was England.

Russia:

The small countries were buzzing around. It was most annoying. He raised a sunflower to his face and stared at the yellow petals. "Well, which side will you help?" he whispered to himself. A smile curled up his lips as he thought. He knew much more than they knew. He knew who would disappear next. "And it won't be me," he said softly. "He wouldn't dare, that Prussia."

Leaning back in his chair, he tapped his fingers lightly on his desk. "Perhaps I will keep watch. See how this plays."

"Mr. Russia!"

There was an intrusion. Of course, there was never any peace. Russia sat up strait and fixed a stare on the person before him. He adopted a slight smile. He breathed through his mouth, tasting the snow on his scarf.

"Yes? What is it, Lithuania?" He closed his eyes and smiled more. Play innocent. Play innocent. You know only what they think you know.

The smaller person was uncomfortable. Russia could tell that even with his eyes closed. His smile dropped a bit as he peeked through and saw the distant expression on Lithuania's face. Would he never be trusted? He tried so hard to appear kind. Was it just because he had conquered Lithuania? Dragged him from Poland? But who would want to stay with Poland anyway?

"Lithuania?"

Russia watched as Lithuania jumped a bit, his light brown hair twitching slightly at the ends. His smile vanished.

"Mr. Russia, you were right." Lithuania's voice wasn't as strong as it had been when he had walked in the door. It wavered.

Putting his smile in place again, Russia stood up to his full height and went over to the window. He stared out at the snow, wishing for a warm place. The sunflower was still on his desk. In a warm place there would be sunflowers everywhere.

"That's disappointing," he murmured. "I had been hoping that he would surprise me." Russia ran his fingers through his silver hair and watched the snow for a little while more. He forgot about Lithuania. He forgot about England and France and America. He forgot about Prussia and Austria and Hungary. He focused on the snow and of the burning light of vodka. Sunflowers. His happy place. Then he turned back around and faced Lithuania. "Who went?" he asked.

Lithuania instinctively looked down when Russia's eyes went on him. "What do you mean, Mr. Russia?"

"Who went to make sure?"

Russia watched as color burned in Lithuania's cheeks. "Belarus did, sir."

A cold burn stretched through Russia's stomach. Of course. She was always looking for an excuse. He smiled again. "Well then, send her in, Lithuania."

"Yes, Mr. Russia."