/AN/ I had to, I had to, I had to! But don't think any less of me when I'm done. ;w; I love Canada, but... It had to be done!
Warning- Violence and foul language! (I don't usually stuff with violence or swearing. I swear, I sat at my computer deleting and retyping a few times because I was so uncomfortable with it, but I slowly got over it. I'll say it now, if there wa rating, I'd use it. The content isn't anywhere near bad enough for M of course, and I'm probably overreacting, but… Oh well. You've been warned.
"This world meeting has been called to order to discuss the Arctic, or the Arctic's land
divisions to be exact." England droned, looking around the room at his fellow nations.
"Why do you get to lead the meeting?" called France from the other side of the table, taking a sip of wine from his glass.
"Because I'm not drinking alcohol." England said matter-of-factly.
France's eye twitched. "Why the 'ell do you even care about the North Pole, what would a sheep want with frozen tundra?"
"And what would a frog want with it?" England countered, standing up.
"Territory so that I 'ave more land than you- Oh, that's right, I already do, you lost all of yours." France taunted, and England threw one of his pens across the table at France.
"SHUT UP BLOODY FROG!" England didn't show it, but the comment had pained him to hear. France was referring to the colonies and territories that had gained independence from him.
"I say I get it all! I'm the closest to it anyway. And I'm used to the cold." Iceland
interrupted, slamming his hands on the table and standing up.
"But you also can't fight for it little boy!" Russia laughed, poking Iceland on the shoulder. "You're too weak."
"HAHAHA The commie's right, the hero'll just swoop in and take it!" A certain American laughed, and most of the people in the room glared over at him.
Russia's smile faltered for an instant, and he stood up and smiled menacingly over at America. "What did you call me? Better watch what you say if you don't want trouble."
"Who won the Cold War?" America replied coolly, leaning back in his chair.
"You did." Russia said, but it sounded like more of a hiss. "Don't get too cocky, you may regret it. Right Latvia?" Russia smiled and patted the Baltic nation's back so hard the sound echoed around the room.
Latvia whimpered and tried to inch away from the Russian, who was too preoccupied with staring down America to worry about where Latvia was going.
"Hey, be quiet you two! I don't care if you have problems with each other, this meeting will stay professional if it kills me. Got it?" England snapped, looking coldly between the two nations arguing.
"Dude, you just threw your pen at Francey-pants over there. You can't tell me to be professional." America snorted, and England glared back at him.
"Why do I have to be here? You northern bastards can have it all, I don't care." Romano complained, kicking at the table leg absentmindedly.
"Lovi, just be patient." The Spaniard next to him chuckled, and Romano crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
"That's not a damn reason..."
Someone was looking around at the nations, silently watching their arguments, preparing to say the sentence he was piecing together.
"I agree with my little brother!" called Norway in a monotone voice, putting his arm around Iceland, who instantly looked disgusted.
"Don't call me that!" The Icelandic teen growled, pushing away the Norwegian.
"Fine, then I don't agree with you." Norway replied with a sigh, turning away.
"I don't want your approval!" Iceland insisted, turning away as well.
"Good."
"Good."
The nation sat, looking around. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something, then closed his mouth again. He had to word what he was going to say perfectly.
"Well I've got Greenland, and that's even closer to the Arctic than Icey over here." Denmark grinned, earning a smack on the back of the head from said Icelandic.
"That's just a territory! My house is actually up there." Iceland countered, and the two Nordics began going back and forth in a heated argument.
"Dude, you're already the biggest country, why do you need more land?"
"So that you can have less land. After all, one day, the whole world will become one with me, da?"
"YOU'RE A BLOODY FROG!"
"BLACK SHEEP OF EUROPE, BLACK SHEEP OF EUROPE, BRITAIN'S THE BLACK SHEEP OF EUROPE!"
"WHY HELL DO I HAVE TO BE HERE!? I COULD BE AT HOME DOING A MILLION MORE IMPORTANT THINGS-"
"Shh, calm down Lovi, calm down~!"
"Fratello, there's no need to yell! When we get home we could make some nice pasta, okay~? It'll be yummy, and delicious, and-"
"HELLO EVERYBODY I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY COULD YOU PLEASE LET ME TALK FOR JUST A MINUTE!?" blurted the formerly silent nation as loudly as he could. It came out as a whisper, and nobody could hear it over the shouting and arguments. "HELLO, CAN ANY OF YOU HEAR ME!?" he tried again, and this time he got France's attention.
"Matthieu, when did you get there?" France asked, genuinely confused. The room noticed that somebody had talked at this point, and there were people looking over at him. There were also people looking at the air next to him, confused as to what the others were staring at.
"I've... Been here the whole time listening to you guys fight." Canada said weakly, and the other nations exchanged confused looks.
"Ah, but... Matthieu, you must be mistaken."
"Um, no, I'm pretty sure I'm right. Anyway, I was just wondering if maybe since I have a lot of northern islands and stuff by the Arctic, maybe I could have a piece of the western part." he lowered his head slightly and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then began a nervous rant. "I don't even want the whole thing, just a few places. America could have the very top because that's the sort of thing he'd like to have, Russia could have the east, and Iceland and Denmark could have some of it too, but I think I should just be allowed to have... Some of the... Land. . ." Canada trailed off as he realized that nobody was watching him anymore and that they had gone back to their arguments.
The Canadian sighed, leaned back in his chair, and waited to hear what the verdict would be.
The meeting ended, once again without anything accomplished other than earning several nations black eyes.
Canada sighed as he made his way home from Liverpool, England where the meeting had been held. He didn't know why he had expected to be noticed at this meeting, there was nothing different about this one than any of the other meetings he had tried to be noticed at.
He opened the door to his house and closed it silently, then immediately flopped down into the nearest chair. He took a deep breath and looked around his house that was empty of life other than his bear Kumajiroh and himself.
"I'm useless. The world ignores me, and gets along just fine, so... I must be useless." Canada reasoned, holding back tears that were forming in his eyes.
He quickly brushed the tears away and stood up. "No, I'm plenty useful! Just because the rest of the world doesn't know it..." He trailed off as his eyes fell to a picture hanging on his wall. It was in black and white and yellowing, but he still recognized it fine. It was of him and his twin brother, America.
America had his arm around Canada, and they were both soaked to the bone and laughing wildly.
Canada remembered that he had been milking a cow, but America had suddenly ran in, gone over to him and announced that he had found a bright blue lizard that he thought was amazing.
His sudden presence, however, had spooked the cow. It panicked and kicked over the bucket of milk as well as two that had been sitting next to them, and the liquids they had contained flew out and spilled on the twins.
Canada had been about to yell at his brother, when he realized how funny America looked with his hair sticking to his head, then how funny he himself must look. He decided that the entire situation really was quite funny, and they started laughing. Apparently, someone who came in to check on them to see what was happening had thought it was funny as well.
They had gone to find a camera, and took a picture of the laughing brothers.
"Hah... We used to have so much fun." Canada mumbled, and he carefully ran his fingers across the glass covering the picture. He suddenly sank to his knees and started bawling.
"When did everything change so much!?" he screamed out to no one.
His previously silent bear jumped out of Canada's arms and turned to look him over from the ground.
"Kumajiroh... D-do you know who I a-am...?" Canada stuttered, remembering that his bear was with him.
"Who are you?"
Canada didn't answer; he just looked back at the wall silently, his shoulders still shaking with soundless sobs. He flopped onto his carpet and stared at the ceiling, silent tears falling to the floor.
Then, he had a sudden thought that made him sit up with a start.
"I-I'm not useless... I'm NOT useless. They just think I am." He mumbled, his voice slowly gaining power. "They get along fine without me, but they'd get along better with me." His sobbing had stopped, and he was starting to smile. "God, it's so obvious." He let out a chuckle. "I'll have to show then what they're missing, won't I?"
A few hours later at England's house…
England whistled his national anthem absentmindedly while he swept his kitchen floor, trying to forget what had happened in the meeting.
Not only had nothing been solved, but France had even brought up his old empire.
England clenched his teeth and a tear fell down his face. "Damn frog..." He whispered, and his voice caught in his throat.
He took a deep breath and wiped away his forming tears. He was fully aware that France understood loosing territories as well, and was, frankly, shocked that he would ever resort to saying something so cold and cruel. He had thought that they had an unspoken agreement not to bring those things up in a petty disagreement.
Apparently not.
"I won't cry over something that frog said. I won't." he said stubbornly, continuing to sweep the floor. "Not over loosing those stupid gits... America... India... Australia... Hong Kong..." England opened his mouth to name another, but frowned.
He couldn't remember who he had been about to list. It troubled him for a few seconds, and then he decided he'd remember later and he brushed the thought from his mind.
His doorbell rang a few minutes later, and he looked to his front door, wondering who it was. His tears had stopped, and he took a minute to regain his composure.
Before he could get to his front door to open it, he heard rapid knocking.
"England, I'd like to talk to you!" called a voice from behind the door that England couldn't quite place.
"Oh, he knows who I am, so who...?" England was just about to open the door when he heard chuckling from the other side of the door. It almost sounded evil.
"Y-yes, who is it?" he called, backing up.
The voice laughed loudly. "Oh, well that's too bad, if you could've remembered, things wouldn't play out the way they're about to."
"Wait-!" before England could finish, the door flew off his hinges and hit the Brit in the forehead.
He fell to the floor, rubbing his head. He tried opening his eyes, but the force of the door had made his head spin so much that he had to close them tightly again.
"Oh Arthur~! Open your eyes." sang the voice- it was coming from directly in front of him.
Arthur slowly opened his eyes, and they were met with violet ones.
"I-I know you!" England murmured, then memories hit him like a ton of bricks. "My god Canada, what's happened to you? What are you doing he-!?"
"How long have I known you?" the Canadian interrupted calmly, throwing the hockey stick he held in his hand up a few feet before catching it. "How long have I known you?" He repeated after England remained silent.
"A-Around four hundred years, counting the years before you were officially a country." he stammered. The Brit tried to stand, but Canada instantly placed a boot-clad foot on his chest, making him lay on the ground.
"Four hundred years listening to me talk and you don't recognize my voice when you hear it behind a door?" Matthew hissed, pressing harder with his foot against England's chest.
England glared. "Mathew, this is completely uncalled for! Especially in my own house! For a mistake on only one occasion, too! What on earth has gotten into you?"
"ONE OCCASION!?" Matthew shouted, stomping on England's chest and causing him to cough. "This has been going on most of those four hundred years, but you wouldn't know that, you probably forgot." he hissed.
"Canada, you're- ...being...silly..." England trailed off as he did, in fact, begin to realize that Canada was right- he did remember multiple, probably hundreds of times that he had forgotten who Canada was.
"I'm sorry Canada, but I-" England was instantly cut off by maniacal cackling coming from the man above him. It was extremely out of character, and it spooked the Brit.
"Really?'Sorry'?" he laughed. "That's going to make up for my entire life being full of you and everyone else ignoring me? Constantly?" he leaned down so that England could feel the Canadian's breath on his face. "Think again."
Before England could respond, Canada jumped up and swung his hockey stick at England's middle, hitting him square in the stomach, making him double over.
"Shit- Canada, please, stop it!" England hissed in pain, clutching his stomach.
"Why?" he asked simply, leaning down again, an honest stare on his face. "If you can think of a good reason in thirty seconds, then fine, I'll stop." Canada grabbed England's face and jerked it upward so that they were looking each other right in the eye.
"It's just not right, damn it!" England yelled, trying to pull away.
"Tick, tock, tick, tock." Canada sang, a grin crossing his face as he imitated a clock.
"Canada I never meant to hurt your feelings!" England insisted desperately.
"Is that all you can think to say? Because these excuses are, frankly, pathetic." Canada yawned, pushing England away.
"Canada, what's wrong with you?" England whispered in disbelief.
"Alright, if that's all you've got to say..." Canada grinned. "I can start."
"Start what, exactly?" England whispered, trying to scoot away from his attacker.
"Well, wouldn't you think that people who are murdered remember their murder in the afterlife?" he asked, whispering in his ear with a smirk.
"Well I think you might have forgotten that I can't die. You can't kill me, I'm a nation, so whatever you were thinking of, forget it." England growled, a nervous smile crossing his features.
"Oh, I know that. But I can make you wish you were dead."
England, now shaking with fear, elbowed Canada in the chest, attempting to push him off. All it did was aggravate him, however, and Canada grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back.
England hissed in pain, still struggling. Before he could say anything, Canada pulled back and hit him in the arm with his hockey stick. It made a loud cracking noise and broke the skin, splattering England's rug with sticky crimson liquid.
He gasped in pain, and Canada sighed.
"That felt so good..." he whispered, a twisted smile crossing his face.
England couldn't say anything. Not only was his body in temporary shock from the pain, he was in mental shock as well. He had never had anyone attack him with such blind fury and hatred, let alone Canada.
"C-Canada..." England stammered, barely audible.
"What do you need now?" Canada asked calmly, putting a firm hand on England's throat. "The longer you talk the harder I press. Go."
"W-well aside from the obvious fact that what you're doing is morally wrong, you can't honestly think I'm g-going to keep this to myself, do you? I-I'll tell America, France, Japan, S-Spain, Cuba, Germany, China, Russia, Prussia, even the Italies. E-Even those of them who are against me will take my side in this battle, Canada. You'll be apprehended and stopped for g-goo-good." England choked, and began grabbing at Canada's hand from his spot on the ground. After England's long explanation, he could hardly breathe with Canada's arm pushing on his neck so hard.
"Oh well, I was going to fight them all like this too, why not all at once? Let the whole world come at me, nothing's going to be able to stop me." he laughed. His expression went back to its original smirk. "Of course that's still a pretty good reason to leave you alone..."
England held his breath. Did that mean Canada would leave him alone? Did that mean this torture was over?
"Hah. Too bad you didn't say it in those thirty seconds I gave you." he whispered with a huge smirk.
Canada experimentally pushed down harder on England's neck, making England to go into a coughing fit.
Canada continued pressing until England was blue in the face and unable to even cough.
Just as England was about to lose consciousness, Matthew lifted his hand and have him a hard smack in the jaw that woke him up plenty.
"Stay awake, I'm not done with you yet. Big brother." he mocked, ending in a sickening sweet voice that brought tears to England's eyes.
"YOU QUIT THAT RIGHT NOW!" he screamed, struggling as much as he could, finally managing to kick him in the leg and cause him to flinch slightly.
This, of course, only made Canada mad, and earned England a whack in the head from Canada 's hockey stick that almost knocked him out.
England clenched his teeth in pain, trying to keep hate away from his expression. He didn't want to hate Canada. He had raised Canada, known him his whole life. Even if some of these times he obviously hadn't recognized him then forgot these encounters, he hardly ever argued with him and previously to the encounter going on right then, he had considered Canada one of his best friends.
It was foolish, he realized, to consider Canada anything like that. England didn't remember a conversation that went on between them for years, and the worst part was that they probably had spoken and England had forgotten about it.
So he closed his eyes and braced himself for the next blow, which came surprisingly quickly to the side of his head. He couldn't move, all of him was either pinned down by Canada or it was too injured to function correctly. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to lose consciousness.
"Bastard, wake up!" Matthew kicked him in the face and England felt his nose break and start gushing blood. He tasted the sticky liquid in his mouth and figured that his lip was bleeding as well.
"Canada, what the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the blood away from his face with his limp arm. "What is your fucking problem!?" He continued.
There were about a hundred emotions going through his mind- fury, confusion, nostalgia, and fear. Most of all fear. He would have to sit through this for who knows how long until Canada either came to his senses or got bored. Arthur had an awful feeling that the latter would come long before the former.
"What's my problem?" Canada asked, venom dripping from his voice. "My problem is that the man who took care of me for over a century and knew me all the time after that can't remember who I am."
"Canada, I-" England was instantly cut off.
"Don't worry, England. I'll make sure to leave plenty of scars, it'll help you remember." Canada promised, eyeing a knife lying on England's kitchen counter.
England saw where he was looking. "Oh God, no Canada!" England screamed at him while Canada got up and leisurely made his way over to the potential weapon.
He lifted it and lightly ran his finger against the blade, his face splitting into a grin as blood came from the thin cut on his finger.
"This will work nicely." he decided in a bubbly, excited voice. "Maybe I should carve my name in your arm. What's my name, Arthur?" he taunted.
"It sure isn't Matthew Williams, he's a polite, kind, patient boy who wouldn't hurt a fly." England spat as blood trickled from the side of his mouth. "You are not him. Or Canada. You are a monster."
"God, you're a cocky little bastard, aren't you?" Canada growled. "Who's got the knife?" he walked swiftly over to England and slowly dragged the edge of the blade across his arm, causing blood to come out, once again staining England's carpet, however these were the least of his worries.
"Try not to scream too loud, alright?" Matthew teased him with an evil grin.
England's eyes widened and he tried desperately not to cry, even though his arm was about to explode with pain. "Canada, when you come to your senses, I'll forgive you." he whispered.
Meanwhile at America's house…
America sighed loudly as he paced back and forth across his bedroom floor. "I'm sooo booooreddd..." he complained to nobody in particular.
He looked over to his phone. "I'll... Um... Call somebody!" he decided, picking up his cellphone and scrolling through his contacts.
"Afghanistan- we're not even friends anymore, why do I still have his number? Australia, no, it's night over at his place. Belarus- HOLY SHIT HOW DID HER NUMBER GET THERE!?" He quickly deleted Afghanistan and Belarus's numbers, then decided against Belgium and Bulgaria. Then he got to his brother's number. "Canada? Sure, why not?"
He dialed his brother's phone number, but was directed to Canada's answering machine. After several attempts, America decided he'd simply go over to his house. Maybe Canada just hadn't heard his phone or had put it on silent or vibrate.
Alfred went out to his garage and got in his car. As he drove out of the driveway he turned on the radio as loud as it would go, a grin on his face.
Finally, after a couple of hours of blasting music and people honking at his car for "no apparent reason", (he didn't find it a problem that he drove a whole ten miles the wrong way on a one way street or ran at least fifty stop lights) he got to Canada's house and knocked on the door.
"YO, MATT, IT'S ME, AMERICA!" he called, a grin on his face. There wasn't an answer. "MAAATTIIIIEEEE!" he repeated more loudly, knocking harder on the door.
America frowned. Normally Mathew would've answered his door by now.
Finally, America sighed. "Matt, I'm gonna go over to Iggy's house if you don't come out soo-"
The door opened, but Canada wasn't the one opening it. It was Canada's bear, Kumajiroh. He had wide, scared eyes, and was visibly shaking with terror.
"Whoa, dude, what's wrong? And where's Matt?" America asked, suddenly looking worried.
"Canada... Isn't Canada anymore." He scared bear whispered.
"What do you mean? Be clear dude!" America demanded.
"Canada isn't Canada anymore." the bear whispered again, a stray tear falling from his eye. "Canada isn't Canada."
America realized that he wouldn't get any more information from the bear. "Alright, where is he? Can you tell me that?" America asked impatiently, trying not to sound as scared as he was.
"Canada... He left. He left for his dad. He wanted to make him cry. He wanted to make him feel pain." Kumajiroh whispered. He had an empty, distant voice. It almost sounded like he was in a trance.
"His dad...? So France or England...?" America muttered. "England had control of him longest, so..."
He didn't want to traumatize Canada's poor bear any longer, so he left the house to go to England's house. "He wanted England to feel pain? Yeah right, Mattie'd never do that." America said, but he couldn't figure out whether he actually thought so or if he was trying to convince himself. He decided on the former. America figured he just hadn't quite understood Kumajiroh.
All the same, he began to drive considerably faster.
When he got to England's house, he noticed that something was wrong instantly. The door had flown off its hinges and was lying somewhere inside. America jumped out of his car and ran inside.
Blood covered the entire room, but America couldn't see anyone there. He also couldn't figure out whose blood it was.
"Hello? Is anyone home?" He called, but nobody answered. He took a few steps, but the instant he couldn't be seen by somebody through the doorway Canada came out of a door located down the hallway and closed it quietly with a smile.
"Hello, America." he greeted. "Have you come to see England? Sorry, he's... Busy."
"Canada, are you okay!?" America asked in a panicked voice. "Where did this blood come from!?"
"Alfred, it's not your turn yet, I haven't finished with England. When I'm done, I promise you'll get a turn." Canada sighed.
"Canada, what the hell is going on, and why aren't you phased by all of this blood!?" America asked, his voice shaking.
"You're slow, Alfred." Matthew commented, and it was then that America realized that his brother had a knife in his hand. "Really slow."
"AMERICA RUN!" croaked a weak voice from the room Canada was blocking. "AMERICA YOU HAVE TO RUN AND GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
Canada's smile faded, and he opened the door. "England, I thought we had a deal, you keep quiet, and you can keep both of your arms."
America stared in shock. Suddenly, his face filled up with rage and hurt. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO ENGLAND!?" he roared, running at him and trying for all he was worth to get into that room. Canada wouldn't allow it.
He blocked the door and kicked America in the chest to keep him away. The kick was so hard that it made America fly backwards.
"My god America, you just can't wait for your turn, can you?" Canada asked, a grin on his face. "Fine then."
America had, to his surprise, had the wind knocked out of him by the blow from his brother. He quickly straightened, but Canada was already coming at him with a punch to the head. America jumped away, and Canada just barely missed. America was still shocked- Canada had an almost evil glint in his eye, one that he hadn't ever seen in his brother's eyes.
"Hey, dude, what's up? Why're you all psycho?" America asked, and Canada gritted his teeth.
"Psycho?" he growled. "You need to learn when to keep your damn mouth shut." Canada tried to punch America in the chest, but the American jumped back before Canada could land a punch.
"I don't want to fight you, bro!" America insisted, and put up his arm in an 'X' in front of his face to block a punch from his brother.
"That's fine, it's just less work for me." The Canadian yawned.
"What happened?" America asked again, and Canada glared.
"I realized the obvious- you guys are all assholes." Canada snapped, kicking America in the stomach.
"No, we aren't Canada. I don't know what I did to make you mad right now, but... Everybody makes mistakes, you should know that!" America said, cringing at the kick he had failed to dodge.
"Yes, I know, some more than others." he stared pointedly at America. "You're the worst, America. Because of you, I got beat up, you didn't notice me, you forgot me, you treated me like shit. My own brother treated me like shit."
America's eyes widened. "Canada, I didn't kno-"
"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF YOU KNEW!" Canada screamed, getting more emotional than he had been the rest of the day.
Canada lifted up the knife that he had held loosely at his side, and began slashing wildly at America.
At first, America could dodge his messy aim and frantic slashes. Then, when Canada calmed down a bit, his aim was more precise and calm. His blade hit America's arm and not only cut right through his bomber jacket, he made a deep cut that began bleeding profusely.
"Shit, shit, shit..." America muttered, clutching his arm. "Canada, calm down-!"
"That's what I always do. I calm down after you give me all of your crap, and after everyone else gives me theirs, but I'm DONE with that. I won't calm down!"
America was caught on the shoulder by Canada's knife, and this cut was worse than the one on his arm.
"Dammit- focus America, focus..." the American told himself, jumping away so that Canada wouldn't hit him again.
"Oh, I see the problem, it's those legs." Canada said with a smile. "I'll have to fix that." America's eyes widened slightly in fear.
Canada threw out his foot and tripped America, who fell with a thud.
"AMERICA!" England screamed, panic in his voice. "America, are you okay!?"
"'Course I'm okay, I'm the her-" America couldn't finish his sentence, Canada's foot came down hard on his knee, making a sickening cracking noise. America let out a gasp of pain, then realized that he couldn't get up.
"There, much better!" Canada chuckled while America squirmed around on the floor.
Then the door behind them that Canada had previously come out of slowly opened.
England staggered out, but he was barely distinguishable. His hair and clothes were sticking to his skin and were dyed crimson. His left arm was bent at an odd angle, his jacket was torn, and he was covered in cuts and bruises. His nose and bottom lip were both bleeding as well.
"You get the hell away from America!" England commanded, and Canada looked amused.
"Okay, I'll just finish with you." Canada decided, swiftly grabbing England's right arm and bending it behind his back until he heard a crack.
England let out a string of swears under his breath, then used his right arm to punch Canada hard in the jaw.
Canada yelled out in pain and clutched his jaw.
"Don't hurt Canada!" America called weakly, and England clenched his teeth.
"America, this isn't Canada anymore. We've lost the other one." A tear fell down England's face, and he hurriedly wiped it away.
"You're right." America breathed.
Then, in one sudden, fluid movement, America pulled Canada's leg out from under him with his good arm and Canada fell, sending his knife flying. America pinned down his arms and stared not-Canada right in the eye.
"Give me back my brother." he hissed.
"What the hell are you talking about? I am your-"
"LIAR!" America accused. "LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR!"
"Idiot, I am him. I've just come to my senses." Canada replied coolly.
"GIVE ME MY REAL BROTHER! The polite, quiet one. The one who's a wimp, but he's also one who puts up with me and listens to me! Give me my side kick!" America had started crying, although he wasn't sure when. "Give him back now!"
Canada stared. And stared. And stared. "I'm your side kick?" he whispered.
"Not anymore." America snapped, wiping at his face as it went from looking crushed and desperate to cold and adamant.
He got up and left Canada laying there.
"Come on, finish up whatever you had planned." America growled. "I don't have all day."
England stared in disbelief at America. "America, don't act so damn defeated!" He didn't get a response. "Alfred F. Jones, do you hear me?" America had never given up before, even when things were hopeless. It made England's last sliver of hope fade as well, and a tear made a trail down his blood-stained face.
Canada and America, meanwhile, were just staring at each other in silence.
Canada shook his head as though trying to get rid of a confusing thought, and his sadistic smile returned. "Stupid American. That was the cheesiest speech I've ever heard."
He stood up and cracked his knuckles. "Let's finish this up, shall we?"
"I just wanted... My brother." America whispered in defense, embarrassed over Canada's comment on his speech. Suddenly, Canada's smile went away. He clutched his head as though he was in pain, then suddenly stared back over at them.
The evil look in his eyes had disappeared, and had been replaced with his normal, kind look. His eyes began to water.
He began to cry, and then he ran at England and America and pulled them into a huge hug.
"Oh my God, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry." he sobbed. "I can't believe I..." he pulled away at the shocked men standing in front of him, saw their wounds, looked around the room at a of the blood, then cried again. "Holy crap, I'm so sorry..."
He suddenly jumped back, and finally stopped crying. "You don't have to forgive me. I don't expect it. I'll... I'll go home. I'll never bother either of you again. Oh God, oh God, oh God..." Before he could turn away, America grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to look at him.
"Canada, are you the real one again?" America asked timidly.
Canada almost cried again, seeing his brother look so broken killed him inside.
"Yeah... I guess you could say that. I mean, I'm not out to get anyone anymo-"
America pulled him into a fierce hug, then England joined in, and before they knew it they were sobbing in each other's arms, muttering words of apology.
When they finally released each other, Canada chuckled nervously. "So... Um... Guys, could you help me clean up all this blood? Y'know...Your blood..." He trailed off, guilt filling him up again.
"Of course! It is our blood, we should clean it up!" America chuckled at his own pathetic joke that had been an attempt to lighten the mood, and patted Canada on the back. Then he took up a more serious expression and said, "Canada, it wasn't your fault you lost it like that. Don't blame yourself."
"What if I... What if I do it again?" Canada's voice broke and he tried not to cry.
"Well, we lived through it this time," England pointed out. "We'll figure it out again. Don't you worry, Canada." He looked down at himself, then smiled and said, "I do plan on helping you two, but I should probably take a quick shower before a try and clean anything." he chuckled nervously and looked down at his ruined suit.
Canada smiled, his eyes shining with gratitude. "I don't deserve your forgiveness... Thank you so much."
England only left for a few minutes. After he came back, America and Canada cleaned the blood off of everything while England fixed the door (He kept feeling sick looking at so much of his own blood).
Finally, when they were done, the brothers said good bye to England, the three of them hugged, and America and Canada got into America's car to go home.
There was an awkward silence for a while, until it was filled by an even more awkward question. "Did you mean what you said about me, America?" Canada asked.
America glanced over at his brother. Canada looked withdrawn and scared. The sinister look had completely left him. It made the American smile.
"Yeah, I did." he answered. "Every word of it."
/AN/ I'm using this as proof that I'm alive! ^^ This wasn't meant to be an America x Canada story, I'm not even very fond of that couple, but interpret it how you'd like. I don't even like the idea of Snapped!Canada, I think Canada has extensive self control. I just thought it'd be fun to write. This is a one shot, by the way. There won't be more. Canada's already fixed. Mind you it's a long one chapter, it's the only one I'll write. I read over it multiple times, but if you find any mistakes at all, PLEEEAAASE tell me! I don't bite (much), I promise! Even if it's something silly like a semicolon mess up, or if it's really big like an entire three sentences in a row worded badly. Thank you for reading, and please comment! Goodbye!