This chapter is considered "Safe For Work".

***Warnings: Coarse language, hinted violence***

***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the characters used in this story. The plot, however, is mine.***

"Let the world conference convene! Solving all the world's problems today!" The obnoxious voice boomed through the whole room, bouncing off the walls. The countries groaned as America began going off on one of his newest, but extremely impossible, ideas. One only had to wait for the current routine to commence.

First, England would interrupt.

"America, that idea is completely idiotic."

Followed by America's attempt to defend himself... By dragging someone else into it.

"But it's a good idea! Right, Japan?"

Who would agree.

"I-I agree with America-San."

Then another person would retort, most likely Switzerland.

"Japan, stop agreeing with everything America says!"

And then France.

"I disagree with both America and England."

In response to being called out, the two English-speaking countries would direct their sole attention to the Frenchman.

Thus began all other transactions.

All the countries rose, going over to the ones they wished to deal with. The world meeting filled with loud voices and dealings, creating a commotion that could compare to a stuffed subway cart. Countries bustled about, pushing and shoving their ways through the crowd. One, however, had her mind set on a single person.

Slipping through the masses, icy eyes found her brother. He stood confidently, trying to initiate conversation with the formerly occupied England. A smile slowly slipped from his face as the Brit relentlessly yelled at him to try elsewhere. Her hands gripped tightly to her skirt as she approached the two. Each insult the smaller man yelled at her brother increased her anger ten fold. The corner of her mouth twitched angrily as she stepped closer to him.

Sensing a sudden change in the atmosphere, England turned to see an enraged woman stomping towards him. He averted his gaze to Russia, urging him to leave immediately. His eyes darted between the two Slavic nations and sweat beaded on his forehead at the sight of the wrathfully nation. Russia started sweating profusely, taking a few steps back. His smile completely dropped, he hesitantly stepped backed. None of the other countries realized their predicament.

"Russia, she's your sister." His voice shook and cracked.

"S-She is a very strong willed woman... I-I can only run away..." Russia had distanced himself even further, finding that Belarus's attention rested solely on England. Any moment now, he would be out of Belarus's line of sight and receive the opportunity to escape. In the mean time, Russia could only watch the horrified England.

"Blast it!" England kept his eyes on Belarus as he backed towards the doors. His bushy eyebrows twitched towards each other, feeling Belarus's cold gaze. How would he go? To her knives? Or would she rip him up with her bare hands?

As she finally stopped in front of him, England held hands over his face, pressing himself to the wall. His eyes were squeezed tight, not willing to see the true fury of the nation. "P-Please don't hurt me! Let me get my last words first!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Emerald eyes opened and hands lowered. England straightened to find a furious but not murderous Belarus standing in front of him. Her lips pursued in an extremely pissed off angle, brow twitching. "If you think I give a shit about what you say to my brother, you're right." England winced. "But I've got other reasons to speak to you."

England opened his mouth in surprise before closing it again. Russia always seemed very intimidated by his sister. Maybe she had changed after the Soviet split? Speaking of the bastard, where was he? England looked upward to find the Russian had absconded into the masses. Sighing, he directed his gaze back to the one in front of him. "Well, what is it?"

Her entire face became nonchalant, apparently looking over what had happened earlier. England inwardly sighed in relief to see Belarus could speak like a regular person, "I want to let you know I'm coming to your room later."

Bushy eyebrows darted upward. "Why do you need to do that?!"

Belarus pursued her lips again. "Why not be louder? I'm pretty sure the whole room didn't hear you the first time." England looked up to see several countries looking over at them. The pair did seem a bit out of place. He ushered Belarus out to the hall, closing the door behind them. The dog probably wouldn't speak up for a while.

England looked over at Belarus, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, what is it you want? You could have met up with me any other time besides now."

"I can't travel easily and my boss would obviously notice if I had a nation visitor." She crossed her arms. "If you haven't noticed, I am nothing but shit when it comes to other nations."

His eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you need that your boss doesn't know about?"

Belarus stared at him, her eyes searching for something. She moved her attention to the wall before pointing her right finger at it.

"I can see ghosts. Like that arm over there." England swirled around, emerald eyes searching. He saw nothing more than a blank wall. No ghostly, detached arm in sight. Turning back to Belarus, he scowled.

"Are you bonkers or do you want to make fun of me?"

Belarus blew a puff of air out, almost in amusement. "If I wanted to fuck with someone, there are much better people to use that on than you." An image of a screaming America appeared in England's mind. "But no, I'm serious." Belarus dropped her arms, letting them hang at her side. "I have been seeing them since I was younger and am tired of it." Her eyes darted to his. "Can you do anything about it?"

England sighed. "Why stop now? You didn't seem bothered about it before."

She bit her lip before glaring sternly at him. "I just want it to stop. Can you do that?" Belarus raised an eyebrow in questioning, her voice lowering to a challenging tone. "Or are you the one faking?"

A vein popped at England's forehead. "You're questioning my abilities?" He pulled open his jacket, ruffling through the inside pocket before pulling out a small notebook. Flipping through the pages determinedly, England's eyes scanned the pages. "I can cure your problem right here right now." Belarus crossed her arms expectantly. "I just have to find the spell... Aha!" He tapped the page. "Here's the beauty."

England held his hand out towards Belarus, eyes traveling across the page. He started mumbling inaudible phrases under his breath, concentrating. The nation across from him watched patiently, eyes hiding a sadder light to them. She took one last look at the well-known ghost arm that had always stuck out of the world meeting place's wall. Belarus pursued her lips. This was for the best.

England's voice gained confidence and the center of his palm formed a ball of green light that rivaled the emerald of his eyes. A smile of pride gathered on his face as he felt his spell growing towards its climax. Finally, one of his spells was going to work! He kept reading from the page, glancing at times at the silent nation standing across from him. His spell would cure her problem, no doubt!

As his voice almost grew to the point of yelling, England could feel his magic coursing through his veins. His eyes widened in excitement. Just wait, Belarus, he thought proudly, his mouth still running off a long forgotten language. You'll see I'm no-

The door flew open, throwing England off balance.

"England!" Germany yelled as the Brit fell. "What the hell are you doing?"

From there, everything happened at once.

England cussed, interrupting the steady flow of the magic. The ball in the middle of his hand burst forward, hitting Belarus square in the chest. She took a few steps back as magic surged around her. Time seemed to be rushing past her, thousands of years racing to the end; yet, she also felt sluggish, as if the world's rotation slowly worked towards a halt. Her hair whirled about her face as she watched the ball of light push into her body. The body she had held for so long felt like it was slipping away, like sand trickling through open fingers.

She raised her eyes, to the sight in front of her. The one she had sought help from had been sprawled on the floor, watching in horror as his uncompleted spell swallowed her whole. He reached out to her, as if to save her. In that moment, when the world rushed to its end and came to a halt, she realized that she didn't need saving.

She was doomed from the beginning.