"—and for that I believe we will need to find another solution. The decline of the situation must be addressed expediently and I require that each of us thinks carefully about the issue."
America rolled his eyes and smiled softly at the flowery language that England always used when he was feeling particularly commanding and self-important. Honestly, half of the nations in the world meeting weren't even paying attention by that point. Reaching for the pen laying forgotten on his notepad, he began to draw little doodles of large eyebrows and hamburgers, mainly in the hopes that England would notice his lack of interest and stop to scold him. At least that would provide some entertainment for everyone.
"We should install a deadline for this matter," Germany put in. England nodded at him brusquely.
"I think that is for the best. Heaven knows that it helps to keep some of us on track." America looked up just in time to catch the pointed glare the Englishman was sending his way and grinned cheekily in response. Just as America opened his mouth to make an intentionally oblivious comment, the entire room suddenly trembled violently. America flung his hands out and braced them against the table to stop it from colliding with his stomach and watched as cups of water and pens were knocked to the floor.
Several nations screamed, but their fearful sounds were drowned out by a louder and much more ominous groan that brought images to mind of massive skyscrapers crumbling to the ground. The commotion was like a train wreck, a giant hammer being smashed into a window, and a cannonball plowing through a stone castle all at once. America had never heard a more horrifying or unnatural noise and combined with the chaotic shaking, he was certain that he had entered into a nightmare.
"What's happening?" America heard to his right. He wished he could summon the ability to answer whoever had asked, but he was too busy trying to clutch at the table and not get launched onto the floor.
The sudden torture ended after only fifteen seconds at the most, though it felt like much longer. Instantly, America was out of his chair and rushing to the window. The other nations had yet to recover from the shock and were merely looking around at each other in frightened confusion. Amazingly, nothing in the room appeared to be damaged besides a few glasses and America was relieved to see that there was no visible destruction to the surrounding cityscape that was visible from their conference room.
"America," England said, tone worried. He had hurried to America's side and was peering anxiously at him. "Do you feel anything?"
America shook his head and frowned. Ingrained paranoia had driven assumptions of attacks and terrorism into his mind when anything out of the ordinary happened, but if that had been the case, he would have felt at least a little pain somewhere in his body.
England tore his eyes away and joined America in surveying the city out the window. "Was that an earthquake, then?"
"That didn't feel like an earthquake." America sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It definitely sounded like something near us was getting annihilated."
"Well, that could be caused by an earthquake," England defended.
"That wasn't an earthquake." America turned away from the window and scanned to make sure that everyone was okay. The Italy twins were clinging to each other and crying, France was fussing with his hair in a handheld mirror, and Greece was getting up from where he had been thrown to the floor, but nobody appeared to be hurt. Satisfied that his help wasn't needed, he rushed from the room and pressed the button to summon the elevator across the hall. As he waited impatiently, he again felt a presence at his side and glanced over his shoulder to see England with a mixture of concern and determination on his face.
"Well I'm going with you, obviously," England said with a raised eyebrow. America nodded and gave him a tense smile of gratitude. When the elevator arrived, they stepped on and America jabbed the button for the ground level. He could swear as they descended that he heard the far off screeching of tearing metal and shattering windows and from the look of horror England shot him, he knew he wasn't alone.
As soon as they reached their destined floor, America ran out of the building and onto the sidewalk, looking around frantically for any signs of a catastrophe. From what they had experienced many floors above, he had expected for the streets to be ruined. England was close behind him, panting as he struggled to keep up with the other nation.
"I don't see anything!" America yelled, confounded that absolutely nothing was out of place. Becoming desperate, he barreled down the sidewalk and around to the other side of the building. Seeing no damage to the city on that side, either, he ran back to the front to find England staring across the road with furrowed eyebrows. "What the hell was that?"
England glanced at him and held up a hand to stop a passerby. "Excuse me?"
The woman looked at him. "Yes?"
"Do you know what caused that loud sound a few minutes ago?"
"I'm sorry." The woman cast her uncomprehending eyes between England and America, who had approached to listen to the conversation. "I don't remember hearing a sound."
"Come on, you couldn't have missed it!" America burst in. "We felt the whole fucking room shake!"
"America," England warned him quietly. "That's quite alright," he said kindly to the woman, who had taken a step back at America's outburst. "My apologies for bothering you."
She nodded at him jerkily and began to hurry away. America almost felt bad, but someone had to have heard the sound and he needed answers. Grabbing the elbow of a boy around his physical age, he repeated the same question that England had asked the woman.
"Uh, no I didn't hear anything," the kid said with a shrug. "Maybe there was a car accident nearby or something."
America groaned in frustration as the teenager left. He knew that the other nations had felt and heard the same things he had, so how had nobody on the street below experienced it? It didn't make any sense. He heard England sigh behind him.
"Perhaps someone dropped something heavy on the floor above us," he offered, but America knew him well enough to recognize England's doubt in his own words. America turned to him and conveyed with his expression that he didn't believe that explanation.
"Maybe. I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right. That noise…it sounded so wrong and awful. Like it wasn't even a part of this world or some shit. And we heard it twice!"
"Well, there's nothing out here to suggest that something's wrong." England grimaced and America wondered what was going on in his head. "Clearly it was just inside our building."
America frowned.
"Let's just go back up to the conference room. Maybe the others will know something by now," England suggested.
"I think I'm going to look around out here a while longer." America bit his lip and looked back across the street. All around them, humans bustled along the sidewalk, entering into shops and talking on their phones. Not one of them seemed to be bothered by a single thing in the world.
"Alright," England said with a dubious look. "Don't stay out too long."
America nodded in response and wandered over to the corner of the street to wait for the walking symbol to flash for the crosswalk. It couldn't hurt to check things out a couple of blocks over. This was his land, after all, and he had to be sure that nothing was damaged. On the other side of the road, he passed by a quaint cafe he knew some nations favored on lunch breaks. There were at least a dozen people inside clustered around tables and chatting, oblivious to the chaos that had transpired in the world meeting just across the street.
Not really expecting to find anything by that point, America turned to head back and see if the other nations had been given an explanation. At least he could feel confident that he hadn't imagined the whole thing. Still, the traumatic memories from the attack fourteen years ago made it impossible to dismiss it as a heavy object being dropped just yet.
As he was crossing the street to get back to the world meeting, he almost tripped over a body that was suddenly lying in the middle of the crosswalk.
"What the fuck?" he shouted, hopping a little to avoid falling on top of the person that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago. "England?!"
The man on the ground groaned and stirred slightly. America began to feel mildly panicked upon realizing that he looked exactly like a certain British nation. Not a single hair was different.
"But that's impossible," America muttered, crouching down to get a better look. "I saw England go back inside."
The only alteration to the man's appearance was the attire. England had been wearing a suit for the meeting, but the blond laying in the middle of the road was dressed in a full-length, blueish-purple coat and shirt with brown boots and pants that reminded America of something England would have worn in the colonial days. A small top hat was laying off to the side and America could see a pocket watch in the shape of a spade attached to the man's coat by a chain.
Green eyes cracked open and peered up at him hazily. America instantly knew by looking at them that this wasn't England. Or at least, not his England. Aside from the obvious wardrobe difference, these eyes lacked the guardedness that a long life of battles and hardship had added to England's eyes. No, these were the eyes of someone young.
"Hey," America called, reaching out a hand to shake the guy's shoulder. "Can you hear me?"
The man whispered something that America didn't quite catch.
"What?" he asked, leaning closer. "Hey, do you know your name? What happened to you?"
The man began coughing violently and America hurried to help him into an upright position.
"Do you need me to call an ambulance?"
The doppelgänger shook his head and practically collapsed against America's chest.
"No," was the hoarse reply.
"What happened to you?" America asked again. The man looked up at him with sorrow-filled eyes that caused shivers to go down America's spine.
"Everything that was my world…obliterated and smashed into dust. It never was."
America furrowed his brow and waded through the deep feeling of dread pooling in his chest. Shifting the guy into one arm, he reached into his back pocket to pull out his cell phone, intent on calling an ambulance. Before he could so much as unlock the screen, a pale hand touched the side of his face weakly.
"Oh, Alfred," were the words whispered, almost too quiet to hear. America stared down at the man in wonder as suddenly, he began to disappear. By the time America realized what was happening, the England look-alike was becoming opaque and literally turning into a dusty substance. It look less than five seconds for him to dissolve completely and with the passing of a car on the other side of the road, all evidence of his existence was swept away and scattered.
America could do nothing but stare at where the man had just been in shock. It took him nearly a full minute before he noticed that there were cars honking at him and people yelling for him to get out of the street. Looking around, he jolted to his feet and ran to the safety of the sidewalk, ignoring the drivers giving him the middle finger in favor of putting his hand against the building of their meeting to support himself. He was trembling badly.
Remembering the England that he had seen go back up to the world meeting, he pushed off from the wall and forced himself to walk steadily, following his intense need to see the Brit and make sure that he was okay.
Deep inside, America knew that something was very, very wrong.
AN: This is mostly me grieving the loss of yet another amazing author in this fandom. I've been seeing disturbing amounts of stories getting deleted and the owners just disappearing, so this is what I imagine to be the result.
I toyed with marking this as complete, but this is a sort of prologue to a long, slow burning fic that I may or may not write more of so for now I'll leave it open!