It was mid-march and all the nations were gathered around the conference hall, about to start the world meeting. Problem was a certain hyper active, burger obsessed nation who happened to be the host of the meeting, had yet to show up. England glanced around at all the annoyed faces of the others in the room. Where is that bloody git! England thought as he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

He tried his best to appear irritated, but in reality he was a worried mess. Something wasn't right about America as of late. He'd been showing up to the meetings all beat up for about the past couple of months now. It started with a simple black eye, which the idiot (as England thought of him as by now) claimed to have received after he shook his coke up and the lid flew off, hitting him in the eye. But as the month went on, America started showing up with severe cuts and bruises on his face and arms. England was starting to get suspicious and would question the American every chance he got, but the only answers he received would be these ridiculous scenarios.

Soon England began to wonder if his little brother was being abused by someone. Well if he is, that person better be prepared for a beating of their own! England thought as he looked at the door for about the tenth time in the last five seconds. He was about to go look for the git himself when the door opened slowly. Everyone in the room went quiet and looked towards the door as America finally walked in, with Canada trailing behind him.

America smiled and yelled:

"HEY EVERYONE! THE HERO HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!" His yell was shortly followed by a grown and a slight coughing fit, as everyone in the room glared at him. Canada placed a comforting hand on his younger brothers back, a look of sympathy on his face. England was the first to speak, shouting:

"Where the bloody hell have you been!" America cleared his throat, and said in a slightly hoarse voice,

"Relax dude, I got caught up in some hero business." He stood up straighter and smiled "I'm here now, so let's get this thing going!" America walked happily to his seat next to England, Canada trailing behind, and sat down. England glared at him before looking at Germany as he started the meeting.

Things were going as normal for the first part of the meeting. America was being is normal obnoxious self, Japan was agreeing with everything America said, Italy was complaining about wanting pasta, and Germany was yelling at everyone who got out of line. But as the meeting went on, America seemed to be quickly losing energy. England watched him as he tried to keep up his normal banter throughout the meeting. That's when he started to notice even more off with him. He noticed that America's breath seemed to hitch with each inhale and he was still having random spurts of coughing every once in a while.

Is his asthma acting up again? England wondered. When America was young he had some problems with asthma, which England thought he grew out of. It was only about three months ago that he found out that wasn't true. That was when America had a slight asthma attack while visiting him. As England examined America closer, he noticed that America's right wrist was bandaged up. Furrowing his brow, England's concern became even greater. That's it; I'm getting to the bottom of this. He thought as he glanced up at the clock. He noted that the meeting had gone on for a few hours now, and honestly nothing had been accomplished at all.

Clearing his throat, England raised his hand. Germany, who had just finished telling Italy off for trying to steal food from his lunch box, glanced over and said;

"Yes England?"

"Germany, we have been at this for hours now. Is it not time to just call it a day and continue this later?" England suggested, sneaking a very quick glance towards America once more. Germany nodded and replied;

"Yeah, I suppose your right. Meeting dismissed." As everyone filed out of the room, England turned to ask America what was going on. To his surprise, America was almost to the door with Canada already. Quickly, he jumped out of his seat and rushed to catch up.

"Come on Canadia! We have to get to the arena to…" Suddenly a hand was placed on his shoulder, spinning him around. America blinked as he came face to face with a very irritated looking England.

"Whoa dude, what's up?" He asked, taking a step back. England glared at him slightly, folding his arms.

"Don't what's up me you git. I want to know whats going on, and don't you dare give me some outrageous story." England all but growled. America raised an eyebrow looking completely confused.

"What are you talking about Iggy?" He asked. England pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, trying to remain calm as all the worry and anger he has felt for the past month built up.

"I'm talking about your injuries! You have been showing up to every meeting more beaten up then the last. What's going on America?! Is someone abusing you or something?!" England replied, worry dripping through every word. America's eyes widen slightly, he had not heard England sound so worried in decades. Looking down and rubbing the back of his head, America answered:

"England it's nothing to worry about." Canada, who had been listening the whole time, chimed in with:

"America, maybe you should tell him the…" But he was cut off by America giving him a very dark glare. There was no way he wanted to tell England the truth. England, feeling even more worried and irritated, just about pleaded:

"Please Alfred, tell me." America's face went red as he blushed a bit. England hardly ever calls him by his name anymore. Feeling bad, he frowned and muttered:

"I'm sorry England…" and before another word could be said, America grabbed Canada's hand and dragged him out of the room. England stared at the door, a hurt look on his face. That look quickly turned to one of anger as he glared at the door.

"Oh no! You're not getting off easy this time!" and with that he rushed out the door after them, ready to follow and see just what was really going on.

So, what do you guys think so far?