Danger is Everywhere chpt 2

*Two weeks after Canada has arrived at America's hide-out, where New York is, who is on America's side, of course, and has been helping him control Canada*

"Aren't you the one who is always so uptight about people's freedom, Alfred?" Canada questioned again for who knows what time, it had to have been the twentieth time of trying to appeal to America's "freedom and liberty for all" side. "Why are you keeping me here against my will?"

No response.

"Fucking answer me, Alfred!" Mathew glared at his brother, fighting back tears, his hands clenched into fists and held ramrod straight at his sides. Fighting to keep his composure and also to stand up to the one person he had never thought would become his enemy in quite this way. He had always thought he could trust Alfred. Sure, America might occasionally try to invade and take him over, like in 1775 when he refused to join the Thirteen Colonies in breaking away from Britain, back when he was known as Quebec, and again in 1812, for almost the exact same reason.

Alfred glared back at him.

"Because I fucking need you here. Don't question it, Mattie! Just do what you're fucking told." Alfred half-turned away and ran a trembling hand through his short blond hair.

"Geez, Mathew. Why can't you ever just do what you're told...I thought Dad raised you better than that. Guess I was wrong to think that though. You're so disrespectful..." Alfred continued to mutter, almost as if he were just talking to himself. But the sly look he shot Mathew when Mathew recoiled let him know Alfred had meant to hurt with those words. Knowing that it was meant to rile him up didn't stop those words from smarting though.

Gosh, he was even bringing their Dad into it. What did that have to do with anything? What was wrong with him?

Tears tracked down Mathew's face and he sniffled.

'No! He didn't want to seem like some weak spineless fool. But...With New York there idly standing guard, he couldn't exactly retaliate, even just with words. Alfred had already proved that he would be swift to respond with physical violence if Mathew tried to fight back in any way, and America always had been the strongest physically out of them all. Russia and Mathew had always come up as close seconds, but neither could really compete with the cold ease Alfred wielded his own muscles with. If he was up against anyone else, Mathew wouldn't have born with this treatment...but with Alfred...

"Oh, don't start crying on me now, Mattie! Any bad feelings you have you brought on to yourself. God! Go back to your fucking room. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night. New York, bring him there! Now!"

New York, who had been standing silently by the wall behind Mathew, came forward then and gently grabbed Mathew by the elbow. His blank expression didn't change when Mathew shook him off, glared at the offending State, and turned around to walk back to his room himself.

New York just shrugged off the rejection and followed along behind then locked the door once Mathew was in, ignoring the shriek and fist pounding as Mathew let off his anger seconds later.

*Three months after Canada was first brought to America's hideaway*

Mathew felt danger in his soul, but he ignored it. He couldn't let America know what he was feeling, especially not when he was in one of his "loving" modes! Doing so would just send Alfred the exact opposite way and cause him to start hurting him instead! No, he couldn't let him know. So he just squelched down his feelings and let Alfred cuddle up to him, pressing kisses to his neck and cheek, and offering no outward response when all he felt inside was disgust.

"I love your very existence, Mathew." Alfred whispered, kissing each of the fingers he held prisoner, clasped in his grasp. Mathew just looked away and said nothing, his face a blank slate but his emotions certainly not so, not that he would let Alfred be privy to that information!

Mathew was used to this treatment by now, and Alfred was used to his response, or lack of, by now too. Alfred just smirked and carried on with his abusive behaviour, switching over to Mathew's other hand, pausing on Mathew's still empty ring finger. Should he adorn it? He paused to think, then smiled and carried on. In time, in time, he would, but not now, not today not when he still hadn't broken Mathew's spirit, not yet.

Mathew was used to this by now; Alfred's continued actions in the face of his continued indifference. He was used to this. So used to it. He was sure that there were no reactions left to give as of now. He'd used them all up and with them also went his emotions...and his thoughts. He felt empty now, with nothing left to fill their void caused by their absence. But, in this situation, were they truly missed? Not by much. Mathew sniffed.

His current state was... just so him. The person he felt like he was every time the other nations couldn't see him at a meeting. Like a ghost. He was empty and nothing now, just as he'd always been. Or at least, who he'd been as far as he could remember; but, then again, he could only remember this life now. Being in this room, seeing Alfred every once in a while, getting hit every once in a while, and getting kissed and cared for every once in a while...by Alfred. That was all he knew now. So, he supposed it was just right that he should feel so empty.

There wasn't much of a real person to make up with just that for memories.

And with that last thought, Mathew fell asleep.

But his sleep was not quiet, or easy, or restful.

Mathew gets a nightmare as Alfred is sleeping beside him on top of the covers.

Alfred woke up, confused as to what had awoken him. He could feel Mathew's warmth right beside him, so he hadn't escaped. So what? Oh, Mathew was tossing and turning around, and mumbling like he always used to do when they were younger and Mathew had his nightmares from their first experiences on an European style battleground. Somehow, they had needed to adjust to the new way. Thousands of years of fighting in between their Aboriginals nations had not prepared either of them for the sudden death that canons and musket fire had brought to their shores.

"Aw, Mattie." He coos and pats Mathew's head, petting him.

This was the wrong move to make, for Mathew at least.

It wakes Mathew up and when Mathew realizes what is happening, he's already reacted to the foreign feeling of something in front of him.

Mathew's eyes slowly blinked open. His eyes were at first unfocused, but when they first did, and he saw a dark blur in front of him (he didn't have his glasses on) his hand came up as his eyes widened, and that was the hand that slapped Alfred hard on the cheek.

Immediately, Alfred had grabbed Mathew's hand hard, his instantaneous reaction to Mathew's slap, and he'd stared back at Mathew coldly as Mathew groped with his other hand for his glasses on the table, and his eyes widened yet again when he'd settled them on his nose and looked back at Alfred.

Mathew started to breathe in deeply, trying to calm himself, though quickly dissolving into a shaking hyperventilating mess. Apologizing profusely, instinctively.

Alfred keeps staring at him, glaring coldly, saying nothing. Then he slid his legs around and got off the bed, backing away and never breaking his gaze before he released Mathew's wrist still caught in his crushing grasp, and seemingly calmly left the room, slamming the door behind himself.

Mathew stared as Alfred left the bed, shaking his head. Oh Creator, what had he done?

Shaking, he carefully slipped off the bed to follow, still apologizing as his Alfred left the room, and took his hopes of not being punished with him.

Alfred didn't come back, not for many days, not even when Mathew banged on the door relentlessly for hours begging for him to please come back. Not even when Mathew had finally given up on the third day and slumped to the floor drained. Even a nation can be starved, after all. By now, food wasn't the only thing he craved. He wanted Alfred's affection. He needed it, more than he needed anything else.

That's what he'd been taught, after all.

"Please! Alfred, I didn't know what I was doing. Please come back. Please! I didn't mean it." Mathew hiccuped as his breath ran out and his crying took over. He gathered in air to try again. "P-please come back. Alfred!"

Mathew eventually cried himself to sleep against the door.

Alfred still did not come.

Mathew woke up still pressed against that door. Alfred did not come back for quite a few more days. Weeks. And only had when New York had started screaming at him that Mathew was currently dying, again and again, his nationhood just bringing him back each time. That something needed to be done, and he was getting calls from the other States, curious about why they kept feeling a nation die somewhere close by them. That had been the only thing to get Alfred going, stiffly standing up and stalking to the door. A weak cry of pain echoing down the hall from Mathew's room a short time later.

New York flinched, and tried to convince himself not to go out into the hall, and see what his meddling had done for Mathew this time…but he had to.

A/N

D: Please tell me if this is jumping around too much.

I'm planning on putting the rest in with flashbacks to these months and back to the present with the rest of the nations.

Hehe, please review~!

HUGS and WUVS 'u'