Approximately two hours passed since England had finally awoken from his twelve solid hours of sleep. Much to the nation's adversity, he ended up spending the couple of hours bracing himself for the on and off pain he had been experiencing in his abdomen. The stomach ache he had been experiencing also remained prevalent, but as always, the Brit would just suck it up, and ignore any pain that continued to come to him. Although, the task proved to become more difficult as time passed. The meeting hadn't even started yet, and it did make England wonder, as he continued to stare at the clock in the conference room, whether he would in fact be able to endure the entire meeting. After all, the meeting was planned to last for three hours. Not including breaks.

To make matters worse, both France and America coincidentally ended up being nearly as early as England. Thus creating more agony for the poor, irritated Englishman. France was already jabbing insults at him. Such as, "You look extremely pale Angleterre. Has the toxins from your own 'food' finally caught up with you?" or "Black sheep of Europe. Stop ignoring me!". Meanwhile, America continued to ramble on about how his plans of being a hero would actually work out this time, and that all of the world's problems would be resolved, or something along those lines. England wasn't exactly listening to his former colony, so the younger nation could've been talking about something else even more irrelevant for all he cared.

At last, England snapped back into reality as soon as a sharp pain suddenly shot through his lower abdominal area. The abrupt ache caused him to gasp, and cringe in his seat as he grasped his stomach on instinct. France noticed England's discomfort immediately, and asked with concern, "Are you feeling alright?"

By the time England recovered enough to utter a few words, he retorted, "Of course I'm fine …. y-you twit."

A look of uncertainty decorated France's face, but he concluded, "If you insist."

Only a few more minutes passed by before the meeting finally began. At first, this came to be a great relief for England, but once more he was brought back into his typical agitated self when he heard Germany announce, "Ve vill start zhis meeting vith a presentation from England."

Well, what am I supposed to say now? England thought as the room became much too warm for him, I can't just tell them that I ate my presentation. Everyone would just bloody laugh! The silence continued to accompany the room as almost everyone stared at England expectantly. It didn't take long for Germany to lose his patience as he imposed, "Are you going to share your presentation or not?"

England finally decided to respond, "I'm not going to be presenting anything today."

Almost as soon as the words were said, America stood up from his seat, and exclaimed, "Hey! Does this mean that I go next!? I have something extremely impor-"

"No," France stated firmly, clearly agitated by the hyperactive American, "Now sit down you fat American!"

"Fat?" America chuckled, "At least I don't have body odor."

"I don't have body odor," France turned his head in a superior motion, in an attempt to show off his so called 'beautiful' golden locks, "Besides, I'm the one who's known for having some of the greatest cuisine in the world. What did you ever do that was so great? All you ever do is destroy everyone's economies."

"How can you say that?" America questioned, a proud smile present on his face, "If it wasn't for me, being the hero and everything, you wouldn't have made it during world war one. Besides, I was the one who started democracy!"

"That's not true!" France snapped back, "It was the French revolution that really created democracy!"

England rubbed at his temples as a headache began to set in, "Why don't you two just shut up already!?"

"Enough!" Germany yelled out, everyone in the room immediately grew silent. In a quieter tone, Germany continued, "Let's just continue this meeting without anymore interruptions."

England continued to persevere through the meeting as the pain in his stomach continued to become much worse. Every second felt practically as long as a minute to the Brit. By the time it the lunch break finally came around, England's vision began to grow dim. He didn't even acknowledge America and France's attempt to annoy him. Suddenly, a nauseous pang struck him, and he began to dash to the bathroom, his thoughts were scarce, and frantic, I don't think I'll be able to make it!

Soon, his words became true as yet another abdominal pain shot through him. Causing the Englishman to clench his stomach, and fall to his knees in the middle of the hallway. He felt feverish, somehow sweating when at the same time he felt frigid. His heart was racing at a near impossible rate, but he still felt extremely exhausted. Perhaps it was because England was not receiving enough oxygen from his short breaths. The confusion continued to torture the Brit's mind as he began to retch, completely unaware of the presence of the two nations he definitely didn't want around during such a situation. Meanwhile, those two nations; France and America, stood petrified at the scene, not at all sure how they were to react quite yet.

The fit of retching didn't last too much longer before England felt something thick come up his throat. It definitely couldn't be described as viscous, since whatever the strange substance was appeared to be, solid. The fit of retching was then replaced with a fit of choking. Whatever the strange substance was just wouldn't budge. As soon as France realized that England was choking, he ran over to the shorter nation, and began to perform an abdominal thrust on him. France continued to apply pressure to England's abdomen a few times before a scarf covered in vomit began to slither out of the nation's mouth. France stared at the scene, dumbstruck. After all, it wasn't everyday he witnessed such a strange, revolting sight.

As England continued to choke on the length of the scarf that was still in his throat, France realized that he had no other choice. Since there was not enough time to squeeze the scarf out in a more professional fashion, he was going to have to pull it out. Literally, he would have to grasp a scarf that was dripping with vomit, and continue to tug it out of the poor nation until it was all out. France absolutely hated this, but knew perfectly well that it needed to be done. Of course, he also knew that the procedure would possibly traumatize England as well. Possibly even more than it would traumatize France himself. With as much haste as possible, he began to pull the scarf out of England.

By the time the scarf was finally out, England let out a pained whimper while France dropped the scarf on the floor out of pure disgust. It was official, he wouldn't be eating in the next few days. America on the other hand began to hysterically cackle, "Oh my god, I'm dying! That's got to be the funniest thing I've ever seen! It was just like that one scene from Family Guy!"

At first, France was enraged by how apathetic America was being towards the situation, but then turned his attention towards England when he heard more pained sobs from the nation. As the Brit continued to writhe around on the ground, France tried his best to keep him still, and asked frantically, "Angleterre, can you hear me!?"

When England didn't respond, France turned to America, and exclaimed, "I think Angleterre needs to go to the hospital!"

"Aw, come on," America replied, still recovering from his intense laughter, "He's just overreacting. He'll be fine."

"No, he's not fine!" France snapped, and then asked, "You're the only one who brought your own car to the meeting, correct?"

America nodded, "Yes, but how exactly is this relevant to anything that's going on right now?"

"Mon dieu you're so stupid," France scowled as he explained, "this means that you can drive us to the hospital! It would be the most efficient way to get him there."

It was America's turned to become infuriated, "Wait a minute, who ever said that I had to-"

France snapped once more, "Come on Amerique, I don't care about how you feel right now! This is an emergency!"

"Fine," America growled in defeat, "I'll drive you guys to the hospital."

Relieved, France lifted England, and tried to make sure he was in as comfortable as possible in his arms before he followed America outside. Unfortunately, England pained whimpers and sobs remained consistent. France held England closer to his chest, and said to him in a soft voice, "It's going to be okay."

When they were in the car, France continued to hold England in an attempt to comfort him. In response, the hurt nation gripped the Frenchman's shirt as tightly as he could in an attempt to ease his pain. Eventually, England was able to utter some words as he whimpered, "It hurts so much…"

France felt his heart break just from hearing that simple statement. He had always known England for being a rather tough, and almost fearless nation. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state was just too much. France held England tighter as he soothed, "Shh, it'll be okay. The pain will go away soon."

England continued to rest his head against France's shoulder until he finally gave into the pain, and blacked out.

Okay, maybe I made this chapter a bit too graphic. For those of you who were just beyond grossed out, don't worry. I don't plan on writing anything more disgusting.