Two months.

Two-

-bloody-

-months later, before he got an opportunity to confront the North American brothers about the strange behavior. Canada was being ridiculously vague, and America had hardly answering his phone. To add insult to injury, the meeting was in France.

"Anglettere~"

"Not one word from you," England interjected. "At least none directed at or concerning me."

"Cassant, mon ami," the Frenchman tutted. "Do you not recall ze little agreement our bosses forced upon us both? To, how do they say it…'play nice'?"

"It'd be much easier to keep my word if you were at the other end of the room." England had no qualms about physically pushing his longtime rival away.

"Hm…" France seemed to stop and study him for a moment. Then he nodded as though satisfied with his diagnosis. "Something is bothering you."

England idly wondered when he'd become so easy to read that anyone could walk up and tell him what he was feeling. It made him almost vulnerable.

France's smile was probably supposed to be comforting, but only succeeded in being slightly less lecherous than usual. "Care to, ah…confide in Big Brother Fra-?"

"Definitely not." England cut him off with a gesture. "Just-leave me alone. For today, at least. There's something I need to do."

France stroked his stubbly chin, unrealistically sparkling blue eyes curious. "…Fine. However I will be seeing you later."

With his promise (threat) made, France pranced off to go molest someone else. England breathed a sigh of relief, and made a mental note to set the bear traps on his property, and wards on his hotel room door.

On the bright side, there'd been pixies flying just outside the windows all day. In fact, the Fae had been especially active around him as of late…As usual they offered no reason for it, so England would simply let it be. And if they 'accidentally' broke some of France's windows or stole his assorted grooming implements, then all the better.

At lunch, England escaped the room housing the bulk of Europe for this round of meetings, and spotted Canada coming out of the loud, rowdy room that contained most of the North, South, and Central Americas. It sounded like they were still arguing, and most of it was in dialects that England could make neither heads nor tails of.

"How did it go?" England asked out of curiosity.

Canada groaned. "It was almost a civil debate about rainforest conservation. Then someone brought up something about Aztec that was supposed to have happened years ago, and everything went to hell."

England imagined what it would be like to live so close South America, and shuddered. They weren't all bad, of course. But so much color and noise and Spanish was bound to get on his nerves eventually. His own neighbors were bad enough. "Hopefully the G8 meeting tomorrow will go smoother."

"God willing," the northern Nation readily agreed. He glanced back towards the door a bit ruefully. "Alfred ditched early for lunch, though."

'Well, there goes waiting by the door.' "Any idea where he is?"

Canada was suddenly on guard for some reason. "I couldn't say for sure. Why do you ask?"

England shrugged, and hoped that looked casual. He settled for most of the truth. "He's been rather scarce as of late. I want to ensure for myself that it isn't a looming economic crisis."

"Right." Violet eyes narrowed slightly. Canada didn't seem to believe him entirely. "I'll see you later-Japan is waiting on me."

The island Nation watched his former charge's retreating back with interest and more than a little suspicion. His questions had been innocuous enough. Canada's needlessly evasive replies were…not. It was even more apparent now in person. The uncharacteristic lack of subtlety was rather off-putting.

Canada wasn't an easy person to unnerve to the point of sloppiness. England was liking the situation less and less.

He ended up spotting America in the small kitchenette, which probably shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. He'd apparently caught the western Nation by surprise in return, as America stood frozen with and the incriminating evidence of an opened orange pill bottle in his hands.

England pretended not to see it, and cut right to the chase. "Why did you cancel the New York meeting? Not that I'm complaining, of course. One less week with France is a good thing. I'm more concerned with whether I should be worried about something."

"U-uh…" The pill bottle disappeared behind America's back. "Building repairs. And then I was all like, 'This is a great opportunity to extend everyone's downtime!' Because I was incited to this totally awesome Yosemite rock climbing thing that was happening the same week by some California cop buddies of mine. So I cancelled it completely instead of moving it."

"Ah." England had honestly never expected to see such bad acting from the Nation with Hollywood, even caught off-guard. "Then why have you barely answered your phone? Or email? And don't give me any rubbish excuses; I know your brother's been running interference for you."

"Er…"

"And more importantly," England pressed mercilessly, "what are those pills for?"

America's expression abruptly shut down. "None yer business," he snapped. His voice had lowered several decibels, coming closer to a rumbling growl. His larger frame was all the more apparent as his stature went from simply tall to looming in the blink of an eye.

England's mind was thrust back into that one dream that had bothered him so. Because that was the same voice America had used before-…

Before muffled screams and blood, hidden behind metal doors and a blindfold.

The island Nation crossed his arms, resisting the instinct to step back. He glanced out the window. The pixies that'd been following his movements all day were nowhere in sight. "Alfred," he said carefully, "we've talked about your temper."

America twitched as though his words had triggered some sort of reaction, and the voice was gone again. "S-Sorry, I'm kinda tired."

It didn't take a genius to know that something was definitely very wrong. Neither did England need to be clairvoyant to know that the problem wasn't going to go away if he simply ignored it. "Well, perhaps if you didn't play video games until two o'clock in the morning, you'd find yourself with a better night's rest."

"Yeah, maybe," the western Nation laughed weakly. The pill bottle was still hidden behind his back. He shifted uncomfortably. "So…was there something else?"

"No, that is all." Now England did step back, and began to make for the exit. "I'll probably see you tomorrow, because such is my luck."

"You know you crave my awesome," America shot back automatically. It didn't sound quite genuine. From the reflection of a grandiose hall mirror, England could see America turning away, with a little blue pill already on its way to his mouth.

England had the feeling that this situation was only going to get worse. And though he'd never admit it to the Yank's face, this strange behavior actually worried him. A glance to the nearest window showed him that the pixies were back, and that was probably the biggest tip off of all.

'They left when I was talking to Alfred, and that was the only time today they weren't there. Which means they're avoiding him.

The Fae have found a reason to fear America's presence-this just confirms it, and I'd bet my hat that it has something to do with those blue pills.'

Yes, yes, I have this other GIGANTIC crossover to update. But the fact is that I have most of the chapters for Bad Medicine pretty much written out already...while That Which Makes Up The Land barely has an outline for the next bits outside of Avatar's canon (which I'm trying to veer away from a bit), and is much harder to write for. So the updates for this story will come out faster.

So thanks to those of you who've followed, faved, and reviewed from the first chapter. It gives me hope. Please review? This is a headcanon I want to address somewhat properly, and I'd love to know what you guys think.

Later dudes. ^J^