Are You Crazy

Out of the Frying Pan

"Don't tell anyone where you came from. In fact, don't tell anyone anything. Just say you woke up and don't know who you are. It would be nice to pass you off as human but with your appearance, and messed up energy signature, it's not very believable. "

England nodded in understanding. So Poland was making him out of be a splinter nation. Sometimes country personifications split in times of stress, war or when the country was divided by conquest, producing younger or altered versions of themselves. Most of the time the half formed nation faded quickly from existence but other times they stuck around. Prussia and Germany, along with the Italian brothers, were good examples of this process.

"The best course of action would be to avoid everyone. But it's better to be on the side of caution. " Poland turned and gave England a once over.

"We will have to do something about your appearance so people don't immediately mistake you for this universe's England. It raises too many questions."

"How about shaving off your hair?"

"What. No. That is a terrible idea," he said slightly affronted.

"Cutting?"

England glowered.

Poland sighed, sounding frustrated.

"Just a few centimeters,"

England only acquiesced to the process of cutting his hair because he believed that being unrecognisable would give him a much needed advantage in this strange and possibly violent world. He was beginning to suspect that his counterpart might not be the most stable or likeable fellow. Additionally, Poland seamed to believe that looking like himself would not be in his best interest. Not only was he avoiding Italy but he had also been advised to evade any attention while in the USSR as well. Based on what he had seen so far he was inclined to take Poland's advice.

Poland then shoved a pair of glasses into his hand, "Here, these will hide your eyebrows…a little anyway"

"My eyebrows?" he questioned.

Poland fixed him with a disbelieving look, "You do realise they are the most distinctive part of your face,"

His eyebrows were not distinctive! They were perfectly modest thank you very much. England accepted the glasses anyway. He supposed he did not have to wear then all the time. God, he looked into the mirror of the cramped bathroom he and Poland had squeezed into, he was beginning to look like America. He hoped France never got the chance to see him like this. The teasing would be unbearable and he would never hear the end of it. That is…if he made it home at all.

"Your eye colour is different. Britain's eyes are bright blue. And your hair is several shades darker. Hopefully, this will be enough to give you some ambiguity."

England ran a hand through his now slightly shorter hair, it was not a major change just being a tad spikier, but it still felt odd. He tried to imagine himself with blue eyes. It was all very convoluted and Poland was in such a rush to get him out of the country that he barely stopped to explain anything.

He made to complain and turned to Poland. Tired, sunken in eyes met with his. For a brief second England saw through Poland's strong front and was afforded the brief view of a country worn down by years of hardship. It was sobering.

"I guess I should say thank you," he settled for saying. Though he was still off-balance from all that had happened he had a gut feeling that Poland was doing more for him than he knew.

"Just…" Poland seamed about to ask something, "Don't get caught," he ended up saying. England pushed his way out of the mouldy bathroom, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Lithuania, who had dragged himself to the door, was waiting with a board expression when England and Poland reentered the hallway.

Poland pushed forward, "Do not, under any circumstances, draw attention to yourselves. Travel normally…nothing unusual. That bastard Italy is sure to have noticed something's up and will be on the look out for that sort of thing,"

"Yeah, Yeah. I know the drill. What a drag,"

Poland ignored Lithuania's interruption and continued, "I have a car waiting to take you to the border. Don't do anything stupid." He directed the last part at England who had be trailing behind Poland as he hauled Lithuania through the door. Poland was about to say something else but froze mid sentence as if distracted by some invisible force. Whatever it was caused Poland to become visibly more agitated. England spotted anger and fear as they flashed across his features.

Poland leapt into motion, grabbing a case off the floor and shoving it at Lithuania, "Don't forget to take your shit with you this time," He muttered before snatching a coat and handing it to England, "Here, you'll need this where you're going."

He then unceremoniously shoved them both down the doorstep and bundled them into the car, which had been waiting outside. Lithuania sat blinking at the steering wheel in front to him before lethargically moving to turn the car on.

"What are you waiting for? Drive already!" Poland yelled from the pavement, motioning wildly with his arms.

"Suppose I might as well," Lithuania then paused, "I left my shoes behind," He stated, sounding mostly unconcerned, pulling the car out of the driveway.

England blinked, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the quick turn of events. Just when he thought he was getting some handle on strange Poland he was being dumped with strange Lithuania headed into more unknown territory. What was he supposed to do once over the border anyway? He still had no idea about how he even got into this situation. So far his only plan was to avoid everyone.

England ran his fingers through his hair, turning to Lithuania. Maybe, he could use this time to get some answers.

"Are you part of Germanic-Italian Empire?" He had been wondering why Lithuania could cross borders whilst Poland could not.

Lithuania looked tired at the question, "Naa, I'm with the USSR,"

"Then how are you here… in Poland."

Lithuania stretched a little, seemingly bored, "Nobody really cares what I do so I come visit Poland whenever,"

"That sounds dangerous,"

From the urgency Poland had displayed in trying to move him out of German/Italian controlled territory he would expect all the borders to be on a tight lock down. Poland made it seem like the military would descend upon him and detain him at any second. How was it that Lithuania managed to cross the borders as much as he implied?

"Not really... Cause me and Poland go way back, it's easy to slip over our borders."

Lithuania sighed as if conversing with him was taking too much effort.

"Sides he doesn't bug me all the time…Over there it's always, 'Lithuania do this, Lithuania do that…Guard your borders Lithuania, increase food production Lithuania,' such a drag."

England watched Lithuania trail off and gaze vacantly at the road ahead of them. He took that as a queue to end the conversation. He continued watching Lithuania with concern, there was lazy and then there was indolent. Evidently, England signed, he would not get any further answers out of Lithuania.

England turned his attention to the landscape flicking past the window. Would attempting to drill Lithuania on historical events be too suspicious? The dirt track they were traveling on was long and winding, taking them through thick woodland. Dirt was being flung up from the unsealed road. They passed several rock formations, which resembled large stone blocks stacked atop one another. They slid past his vision and England frowned. Recognition flickered at the edge of his memory and he examined the structures more intently. Something, something important. What was he trying to remember? The car left the rock formations behind, turning onto another road that slanted steeply upwards. It was barley a road at all.

Suddenly it hit him and his memories of the moments leading up to this predicament came rushing back.

"The Stone Hedge!" He exclaimed. He had been at the Stone Hedge, spending time interacting with, and connecting too, his land. Then there had been that energy surge.

"I need to get to the Stone Hedge. That's how all this," England made a wild gesture, "Started,"

Lithuania gave him an odd look as if questioning his sanity.

"Whatever," Lithuania said after a pause, looking back at the road.

England was too relieved to be insulted by Lithuania's dismissal. He now had some notion on how he got here, meaning he had some hope of getting home. If only he could get back to the ancient monument perhaps he could recreate the phenomenon. Maybe, he could sneak through Europe then swim the English Channel if he failed to find transport. Poland had said he had no energy signature so he could simply avoid any other personifications.

"We'll be crossing the border soon," Lithuania cut through his excited thoughts, reminding him that, despite his revelation, he was still a continent away from his homeland. He was effectively surrounded by hostile territory and with no knowledge on how to recreate the incident or why it had even happened in the first place.

His dark mood was worsened when, after exiting a particularly bumpy section of the road, they came across a blockade of five or so black vehicles. A line of men in dark navy uniforms and holding machine guns, all of which were directed at them, stood in front of the vehicles. They were all wearing blacked-out facial visors, making them expressionless. In front of them stood a short, blond haired man, wearing a black, officer's uniform. An unpleasant scowl marred his features and there was something vaguely threatening about him.

Lithuania gave a long, drawn out sigh, "That'll be Latvia. What a pain."

England blinked in shock, taking a closer look at the stiff figure heading the blockade, recognising Latvia. The car coasted to a stop. A new sense of foreboding settled upon him. So much for his plan to avoid everyone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . Back in Poland. . . . . . . . . . . . .

His day had started off normally. He had woken with a pounding headache and to the sound of his own strained coughing. He had then turfed Lithuania out of bed, they had shared a light meal together and he had downed his daily assortment of medication.

Him and Lithuania spent the morning lounging around on the couch, as they usually did, watching the propaganda on television. Next, leaving the perpetually tired Lithuania to seep on the couch, he had gone to visit one of the many abandoned towns along the Belarus border. Despite his poor health he often tried to spend some time each day fixing up these forsaken and half destroyed towns, helping any of the remaining people who had refused or had been unable to leave during evacuations. These people, despite their poor state of living, were one of the reasons he even got up most mornings. There was just something stronger and deeper about them. A lingering hope that maybe, one day, everything would return to how it once was. It was at this point in the day, when he had sat down to share lunch with a group of men who had been assisting him in refitting water access in one of the derelict houses, that his normal day changed into sometime out of the ordinary. Austria, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to randomly visit him in an attempt to invite him to some performance or another. They may have had disagreements in the past but that time had long ended, leaving them in an odd sort-of alliance.

Austria had also brought along an experimental pain medication that doctors in his own country had recently developed. He did not really know if the human medication made much of a difference, what was causing his sickness was rooted in something far deeper than the physical body, but he continued taking it anyway.

Then had come the weird buildup in latent energy. It had started slowly, barely noticeable, originating somewhere near the center of town. Next came a powerful surge, which had rushed across his land and shot through him and his people like a bullet. It had been almost akin to an electric shock and had left him blinking and unable to move, coughing violently. Unsurprisingly, in his moments of inattention, Austria had gone to investigate, leaving him to chase after the lunatic to ensure he would not cause any damage. He had enough problems to deal with without Austria adding to them.

When he recognised the form of Great Britain he had almost had a heart attack. He knew Britain and Italy had some form of special agreement on top of the official German/English Appeasement Pact, which specified that neither would mess with the eachother's Empires (Not that they always followed it.) So seeing England in his country had not been a good sign. He had been so shocked at the appearance of the highly unstable and downright dangerous nation that he had almost missed the signs telling him that something was seriously wrong.

Austria, being the insane man that he was, leapt right into insulting Great Britain. To which Poland had quickly sent the other away in the hopes of doing some damage control. Still reeling from the shock of the energy surge he had not noticed that the strange Britain did not have an energy signature until they had spent several minuets talking in circles and misunderstanding each other.

He had not believed it at first but this Great Britain, going by the title of England, was from some sort of alternate time line. He had been skeptical throughout their brief conversation. He would have up and left him to his insane rambling had there not been something different about the man, which seamed genuine. He was healthier, stood taller and lacked the psychotic flare most nations had. More importantly he seamed self-assured, despite his odd situation, and centered, two things he had not seen in a personification in a long while. He was then quite glad he had sent Austria away with the instruction not to tell anyone. Austria cared about two things, himself and that noise he called music, so he would not actively seek to report the strange occurrence to anyone, giving him some time. This 'England' was whole and Poland was struck with the sudden need to help.

He should have just left the strange not-quite-country there, wondering around the deserted city, to be picked up by Italy later. But that would make it too easily and at the moment he practically lived to disrupt the running of Italy's 'empire.' Poland dug his nails into his flesh, gritting his teeth. Whether it be resisting new laws, disrupting travel, hiding away resources, he would do it just to piss off the 'superiors,' as the bastards from Italy and Germany called themselves. Of course he suffered for his rebellion, his whole county suffered. But, he had long ago realised that it would not matter whether he resisted or was compliant, Italy would still endeavour to eradicate his culture and crush his spirit. It would just be a slower process. One only had to look at the other nations of the empire for proof.

This England came from a land where there was no Italian-Germanic Empire and had a light of strength in his eyes. He could have knowledge that could tip the scales. He wished he had the power to do more than simply sending England out of the country but he was finding strength harder and harder to come by these days. Even if he was just some crazy split or micro nation it was still worth it just to annoy Italy. He had to believe that what he did was worth it.

His plan to transport not-Britain away had relied solely on Lithuania's willingness to help. Something which was a bit hit or miss in most cases. Lithuania and his everlasting fatigue. If he had it his way he would spend all of his time sleeping, not that Poland would let him. He had his suspicions on why Lithuania continuously visited, ignoring the risk of discovery, just to spend most of his time sleeping. Everyone dealt with the stress of long-term occupation differently, Lithuania's was to ignore the problem altogether and escape somewhere where the connection to his land would be dulled. Sometimes it annoyed him, after all, he put so much energy into keeping his own country afloat even when he had so little to begin with. Lithuania did not even seam to care most of the time. He probably would forget to eat if he wasn't around to remind him.

Still, at the end of the day, they worked together and supported each other. He could not blame Lithuania for his wish to escape the hardship plaguing his people, as he knew it all too well. And he was glad for the company, no matter how dull, in a world, which seamed intent of taking everything away from him. So, with a little jostling, Lithuania had agreed to take England over the border.

It had been around this time that he had felt Italy's energy signature cross his border, flying towards him at an accelerated pace. He, of course, attempted to slow him down, but he had little power over his own borders. He could not even keep Austria out so what chance did he have with Italy. However, he could still slow Italy's process.

That brought him to the present, watching Lithuania drive away. He hoped he would make it home safely. He knew Lithuania sometimes got stopped and detained while crossing his border, meaning it might be several mouths until he saw the other country again. He hoped this was not one of those times. If everything went well and Lithuania managed to sneak in without detection Poland could expect his return within a week or so. Hopefully, England would find his way through the USSR, and make it to the Americas where he would be marginally safer. Then he would find a way back to his own time line and he would never lose that otherworldly confidence.

Poland retreated inside to await Italy's arrival, anger, at his inability to keep him out of his lands, flaring. Italy was moving across his land far too quickly.

A knock at the door.

Poland tensed, not bothering to answer it. There was a bang and the door caved on its hinges, falling to the ground. Red hair, eye's glinting excited purple, Italy stalked through the opening, striding in like he owned the place.

Poland felt the familiar surge of intense rage he often experienced when seeing Italy.

"Ah, Poland," Italy grinned when he saw him, "It's been too long."

Italy then proceeded to stroll about his house, ignoring him. He clenched his fist, stifling the urge to simply lunge at the smarmy bastard. He knew Italy was simply trying to rile him up. Good. Let him waste time playing these games. Lithuania was good at hiding his signature. So as long as he was actively blocking Italy and Italy was not searching for Lithuania specifically it was only a matter of time before they crossed the border.

"This place is absolutely filthy," Italy smirked, knocking some boxes off one of the shelves, "Just like this wretched country of yours,"

"It is a wonder you are still here," Italy casually scanned the labels on several bottles of cough syrup, examining his large collection of medical supplies.

Poland growled. How dare he! It was his fault. His pain, suffering and sickness were all due to those forsaken sanctions Italy was enforcing on his country and people. Calm down, he thought, forcing himself to relax. This was nothing new, Italy had made these insults multiple times.

"Honestly, we should have gotten rid of that scum you call the Polish years ago. They are obviously not doing you any good. "

Poland twitched. The rage in him growing, consuming common sense. His people were strong! They were still fighting despite the passage of so many years. He was proud. Even those who had given up the fight still gave him great pride. They continued to survive in a hostile environment, in which most worked slave-like hours for little in return.

"If they weren't somewhat useful I would have," Italy gave one more contemptuous smile.

Something inside him snapped.

"AHHHH!" Poland saw red. He launched himself at Italy. No plan. No weapon. No chance of winning. He didn't care. He just wanted to wipe that smug grin of his face. Make him pay for everything!

A flash of silver. Pain erupted in his left shoulder and through the blanket of anger Poland resisted a knife embedded in his flesh. He kept going, driven by hate. If he could just land one punch…

The next knife hit his thigh, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. He landed heavily and skidded several paces.

"Truly, you get more pathetic every time I see you," Italy was standing over him, seemingly disappointed.

"Bastard!" Poland ripped the knife from his leg and lunged again, intent on stabbing Italy. A sudden blow to his stomach caused the air to leave him in a quick woosh. The knife clattered on the floor and Poland clutched his middle, gasping for air.

Italy picked up the knife, cleaning it causally on a handkerchief.

"Who was the man you found today? And where is he now?"

Dully, Poland sort out the location of Lithuania who was almost at their border. Good. Soon they would be out of Italy's reach and then Italy could pitch a fit all he wanted and it would do him shit.

"Fuck You!"

In one fluid movement Italy ripped the knife out of his shoulder and stomped down hard, pinning him against the ground. The force caused his neck to snap back and his head thunked against the floor.

"Why must you always be so difficult?" He ground his heal into the wound.

Poland growled, coughing a few times, spitting up a glob of blood.

"Go to hell!"

Italy sighed in disappointment, twisting his heal deeper into Poland's shoulder, causing him to gasp.

"No matter. I will learn the truth eventually. I always do,"

The last thing Poland saw was Italy's sadistic grin before…darkness.