You guys did not have to wait long at all for this! Definetly a new record for me. An update in less than a day. :)

Thank you to all those who have faved/story alerted this already. I didn't think it would be so popular so quickly. Another thank you to the few reviewers I got for the first chapter. Helped me in writing this chapter out so fast. Kept seeing all the emails popping p while typing last night.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or anything mentioned in this story. (no matter how much I wish) they belong to the rightful ownrs, not me.

Anyway, enjoy! :D


England was panicking. Panicking, scared and downright confused. He was still slowly getting over the betrayal of America's Revolutionary War, things were far better between them, no matter how much they argued, but every Fourth of July still hurt. Like another little stab to his heart.

Seeing a younger version of America all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere had him fleeing in a blind panic unable to process the feelings running through him. Hurt. Love. Betrayal. Fear. He didn't bother to stop as he barrelled down the hallways, knocking into a young women carrying sheets to the bedrooms of the hotel that the meeting was being held in, causing both woman and sheets to fall to the floor. Not paying attention to the shouts of someone following him as he skidded round a corner, not stopping in time and rebounding off a wall before carrying on.

'I can't deal with this... America will just leave again... I'll be torn apart again. It hurt so much!'

Flinging himself through the doors leading to the foyer of the hotel, he rushed through it managing to startle the poor secretary as he slammed into the desk from sliding on the glossed floors.

"S-Sir! Are you okay? Sir!"

Righting himself he sprinted the last of the way across the foyer and outside the hotel. Glass doors almost smashing as he tumbled through them in his haste.

"Arthur! Wait! Stop for a moment!" a voice he made out to be France's coming from somewhere behind him. Then a loud crash and cursing in French along with a distinctly female squeal.

Not stopping to look back at the noise Arthur sprinted down the street, the British weather once again raining. Usually he didn't mind his weather. It was after all nearly always raining in England. However for once he wished it would just go away.

'No... Please. Not now. Just go away!'

He lets out a gasp as his foot catches on a slightly raised piece of pavement, sending his sprawling across the floor into mud.

Suddenly he finds himself in a battle field.

Gun pointing at Alfred as the rain poured down from the sky. He knows he should shoot. Pulling a trigger should not be so hard.

He feels his finger twitch on the gun his hands starting to shake before he drops the gun and drops to the floor. His knees sink into the stodgy mud as he lowers his head and cries. Mud and rain water mixing in his red coat as he starts to shiver.

"There's no way I can fire..."

"...You used to be so big..."

Letting out a pained choke, his body shaking all over, Arthur pushes himself up onto his hands and knees before getting up. He starts to walk blindly down the street, wobbling across the pavement as his tears mixed with the downpour.

"A-America... You idiot.."

After seeing the look of pain cross Arthurs face before he ran, France knew what the man was thinking. He had known the guy since he was a scruffy little boy running through his country's forests in a green cloak, watched him grow through all the centuries. Observed as his empire grew and he dominated the world and then watched as it all crashed around him. America revolting against his rule struck England deep.

They may not get on well with each other but he knew that even after two hundred years and more, Arthur was still hurting over the revolution. Seeing the younger Alfred again, however he got here, must have brought all the old pain back.

Like opening old wounds and throwing salt onto them.

It's why he ran after him. Chasing the man through the building, watching as he ran blinding into things. A member of the cleaning staff, a few walls, the doors and the desk in the lobby before finally crashing through the front doors and outside.

The man obviously wasn't listening. He was not responding to his name being called. Huffing at the fast pace he was going at to try catch up he didn't realise the secretary had leapt up from her chair to look out the doors after Arthur, causing Francis to crash into her in his haste, sending them both toppling over. A string of French curse words pouring out as he tried to stand up but unable too with the women sprawled awkwardly across him.

'Any other day and I would have tried flirting...'

The doors bang open again a shout of "IGGGGGGGYYY!" as Alfred burst into the room looking scared. He stopped upon seeing France on the floor with a struggling woman on top of him trying to stand while worriedly babbling out apologies.

"Francis! This is not the time for you to go all frenchy on us! We have to find Arthur!"

"I know that, Alfred! He just ran out the doors and down the street! He would not stop!"

"Which way did he go then?"

"Left. I believe."

With that Alfred ran out the door, turning left, while pulling his phone out. "The hero has got this Francis! Don't worry!"

Francis stares after him as he runs out of sight down the street. 'You are just going to make this worse America!'

Letting out a sigh he pushes himself up now that the secretary he ran into has finally managed to stand. "I am sorry about that, miss. I was simply worried about my friend, he however should be fine when Alfred finds him. You are uninjured?"

To simply put it the meeting room was in chaos. Half the room was confused as hell and arguing amongst each other. One group of nations had gotten into a fight until Germany had to break them up. (After America's screaming over wanting England and being scared of the fighting reached migraine inducing loudness) Some of the female nations were cooing over America's cuteness. Japan had his camera out taking photos. Greece was asleep in the corner with a group of cats snuggled round him. Prussia had somehow got a crop and was standing on the table waving it around yelling things while dodging Hungary and her frying pan while Canada was trying in vain to get a still scared America to calm down.

A lunch break was called and many of the nations were happy to just be out the room. America, after all, was still screaming for England no matter how hard people tried to calm him down. It had only gotten worse once France had returned and told them Alfred went to look for England. He then went up to America, squatted down to try calm him and got hit over the head by flailing arms and America's yelling increased with childish insults on him. "NO! Stay away from me frog! I want England! Get awaaay!" Francis rubbed his head as he backed away, mumbling about teaching the child poor manners.

Canada let out a quite sigh, he had at least managed to get America to stop yelling even if the child was now crying into his shirt. It was strange how America reacted to Canada, he had just sat down, picked him up and sat him in his lap. He remembered how England used to soothe America and himself when they were both young colonies and they became scared of a thunder storm. They had climbed onto his bed and he had smoothed their hair down while hugging them. It seemed to have worked well enough on America now, his crying had quietened down to a small hiccupping, a tiny sob every now and then. He even looked to be asleep.

A small group of nations had stayed in the room, Canada could have laughed at the fact that they now seemed to realise that he was there now he had a child in his lap.

"It's strange. America looks so sweet as a child. He looks so innocent sitting there asleep in… uh…"

"Canada."

"Yeah. In Canada's lap. The yelling was loud though."

"Ve~ he is so cute! Germany! Do you think he is cute?"

"…Yes, Italy. America is… cute."

"Don't let his looks fool you. I know for a fact that Amerique, caused a lot of trouble. There was the time that he got into England's wardrobe, broke open a chest in there and ran round the house in his pirate outfit, hat and waving a sword around. The time he almost drowned in a lake which he thought would be fun to swim in when he had no idea how to swim. Also the time he climbed onto the roof and couldn't get down."

"How do you know all this France?"

"I have my ways." He chuckles slightly. "And also I'm sure you are all aware how England gets when drunk. He can be surprisingly open when in his 'depressed drunk' stage, no? Always finding something to complain about."

The other nations give small nods and murmuring their agreements before all jumping round in surprise at a loud yell of "WHAT THE HELL, EH?" and a small voice repeating "I'msorry!I'msorry!" over and over. When looking over to the noise on the other side of the room they see Canada standing up, staring wide eyed down at his front while holding a sobbing America still repeating "Im sorry." up in the air under his arm pits at arms length away from him. The large wet patch at the front of the Canadians trousers obvious.

"Maple… You wet yourself on me!"