Something was wrong with America.

To start with, he hadn't said a word since the (totally top secret) world meeting had been called to order.

Germany had immediately begun the meeting with his usual efficiency, blazing through the agenda with blinding speed.

And still, America was silent, not even volunteering his opinion, even when France made a joke about one of America's airplanes that hadn't quite performed to expectations. (It had failed spectacularly, however.)

England frowned.

For a moment he'd thought he'd have to get up and separate his former charge and the frog, but America had merely given France the smallest fraction of a smile, and gone back to listening to Switzerland's explanation of the world financial situation.

The only satisfaction he could gleen from that little exchange was the look of bewilderment on France's face.

But still...

"Does anyone have anything to add?" Germany barked from the head of the table, his icy gaze seeking out the usual suspects- including the man who usually couldn't be stopped from running the meeting, let alone his mouth.

Stoney silence.

"Then this meeting is adjourned." The cold man said, gathering his papers as the room fell back into the normal babble that marked the event. Italy was chatting animatedly with- no at Germany. Austria and Hungary both rose and linked arms as they headed for the doorway.

For a moment, England thought he had lost his chance to speak to America, as a tall blond followed the pair- but then he realized it was just Canada.

America was still sitting in his seat, holding his papers in both hands, as though he were holding it at the proper angle to read- except for the way his head was tilted up, sky-blue eyes unfocused as he gazed out the window.

England felt his brows furrow. Was America daydreaming?

He rose from his chair, and attempted to make his approach casual.

"America?" England asked quietly, "Are you-"

The other country jumped, dropping his papers as he stood up quickly.

"Oh, hello, England." said America, with what could only be described as a nervous grin. Nervous? "I was just getting ready to-"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing?" The answer came far too quickly. "Just getting ready for the trip home. Nothing to worry about."

Maybe that was the real reason for the quietude that had fallen upon the younger nation. England relaxed a fraction, watching his ally scoop the papers into a briefcase (Since when had America started carrying a Briefcase?) He was chattering nonsensically about music, and dancing as he did so. Maybe he was just-

Evading looking directly at England.

He put a hand on America's shoulder, not really surprised to see the flinch that was carefully and swiftly stifled.

"Gotta go!" America said suddenly, with a mild burst of enthusiasm that had been missing for the entire day. "I'm late."

It looked entirely too put on to be real.

And just like that, America slipped away from England's grasp, and fled towards the door.

"What did you do to America, England?" France had slipped up beside him. "He was not himself today."

"What the hell makes you think I did something to him?" England snapped without thinking. "You're the one who was needling him."

He didn't bother listening to France's retort, as he mentally reviewed the brief conversation. Yes, there had been something off about America- and a general sense of wrongness. England hated not knowing.

He ignored the look of surprise on France's face as he just walked away without continuing the argument.