A/N: I'm so sorry this took so damn long! I rewrote this chapter three times, because every time it just didn't seem to work out right. I definitely pulled out enough hairs, so hopefully this one will be to your liking. This is where the real plot starts I guess, since other chapters are mostly me having fun with gore.
And thank you everyone for you support on this work. Your reviews and favorites really help me keep going! And I hope you continue to enjoy.
The World Meeting was dragging on as usual. Countries were bickering and yelling and the presentations were long, boring, and repetative, all things America had heard and seen time and time again. The other countries were absolute idiots, squawking like chickens, running about and ready for slaughter. Closing his eyes, he tried to drown them all out, or rather drown them in his imagination, starting with China, since his voice seemed to be the most irritating at the moment. When unfortunately his daydreams didn't help block out the noise, he sighed, forcing a large grin onto his face and stood up.
"Dudes! Come on, stop yelling at each other and let the hero solve all your problems!" America exclaimed loudly and cheerfully, the words tasting like venom on his tongue. All eyes focused on him, bickering between each other. Unfortunately, all eyes stared at his in irritation and tongues spats comments and insults to him.
"America, you can't even solve your own bloody problems."
"Shut up, aru! This isn't your problem."
"Again with his hero crap."
Hateful and cruel words echoed in his head, bouncing back and forth inside his skull. Rage filled him to the very brim, threatening to leak out from his wide, false smile. He wanted to smash them to tiny bits, shot them full of holes, rip their very limbs away from their writhing, screaming bodies. How dare they even think of talking to him like that. Though he was a nation, he was just as much a human being as any other nation in the room, able to think and feel, and yet to every other country in the room, he wasn't even worth the effort to fake decency. Every meeting, every day, from every one, countries and humans alike sneered and screamed at him, demeaned and humiliated him like some sort of stupid animal. How gratifying would it be to just hack every person to bits.
"Nyehahahahahahaha!" America laughed loudly as he usually did, trying to sound as cheery as possible as his hands curled themselves up into fists, trembling slightly.
"Like nails on a chalkboard, aru," China snickered across to a silent Japan.
"Anyway, now if America is done interrupting, I think we should get back to the meeting," England said, eyeing the young country with a very irritated look as he grabbed his files. Most of the nations nodded in agreement, Germany motioning the british blond up to the podium as the next presenter. America flopped back down in his chest, using a great deal of effort to keep a dopey smile on his lips.
"America, you alright?" Canada whispered over to his brother, noticing that the burning look in his eyes didn't match the happy smile. The northern brother was one of the few people who ever noticed anything wrong, but...
"I'm fine, bro," he assured, flashing a toothy grin and a light chuckle. Canada nodded, a little comforted, and drew his attention back to England who was opening up one of his folders, searching for a document. America's turned his head forward to England as well, but his eyes still stayed on his brother, who was absent-mindedly stroking the small polar bear that was sitting in his lap. Probably the only one who ever noticed anything wrong, but he was so easily fooled by his words. America internally sighed. It wasn't like it was anything new.
"It has recently come to my attention that a problem has arisen, one that not only seems to affects my own citizens, but others from other nations as well. Disappearances of huma-" America blocked out England's voice, pretending to pay attention and went back to his own little world, this time putting all of his strength into punching Canada in the face. Imagining Canada's face, bruised and swollen, maybe one eye being forced shut from it as tears streamed down his confused face, left a warm, happy feeling bubbling in his chest.
The absolutely wonderous emotion didn't last very long. America winced the joyous feeling turned soured, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach. Discreetly covering his mouth with his gloved hand, he closed his eyes as he tried to will away the unexpected nausea. He could feel the bile slowly creep up his throat.
Trying to distract him, take his focus away from the coldness in his chest and burning in his stomach, the nation glanced up at England, giving a somewhat strained smile as he tried to pay attention to the Brit's lecture. The young nation could see the blond, standing up at the podium, pointing up to the image of Dakota Benney, the woman who had disappeared from the English asylum. He could see his lips moving, forming words, but not a single syllable was heard. America could see him talking, yet he hear anything, as if he had gone deaf. It wasn't just England either. Glancing to his right, he saw France snickering to himself. Across the room, Italy was annoying German, hugging onto his arm and talking with his big mouth open wide. Belarus was sitting next to Russia looking like a monster, mumbling something under her breath, probably involving marriage. All the conversations, laughter, whispers buzzing about the meeting room, all he could hear was soft ringing in his ears, silencing the world outside of his head.
America stomach lurched, threatening to spill the small amount of contents, something he'd never allow himself to do in front of the other nations. The great United States ill, he could imagine the laughs and jokes about how much he ate or how much of a disgusting pig he was. Shaking his head, though it caused the room to spin, he tried to get the anger out of his head for a moment, for it definitely wasn't helping.
Glancing over to the door, he wasn't too far away, but he knew he would be far from unnoticed. Biting his lip he hoped he could just wait and let the feeling pass. The meeting had only an hour until it was time to break for lunch. Hopefully it would go away. After all, he was a nation. The only time they ever got sick was when something happened in their country. If it was something serious, he'd be most likely unconscious from pain. Smaller issues never were as severe or long lasting, so there was a bit of hope.
America had tried his hardest, but the sickness wasn't going away in the slightest. It had been half an hour since he started feeling ill, but the pain in his stomach didn't go away. He had even had to swallow his own vomit back down when he had thrown up slightly in his own mouth. The soft ringing had escalated into a blaring wail, making his head feel like it was about to explode into a tiny pieces. His hand covering his mouth prevented anyone from noticing the grimace on his face. He knew he couldn't wait anymore. He needed to get out of the room right now.
At this point, running out of meeting seemed like a far better option than becoming a disgusting mess in front of everyone. Glancing up to the podium, Italy was giving his speech, since all nations were required to. Unsurprisingly, his was on the benefits of pasta, so if he ran out, all eyes would be on him since nobody was paying attention. That thought only made the feeling worse.
He scooted his chair back away from the table. Nobody was looking at him yet. Balling his hands into fists, he took an uneven breath and stood up quickly, the sudden movement making his insides flop upside down. Canada jumped as well, not expecting his brother's movements. Several other countries looked over surprised as well when the blond nation stood, but all eyes fixated on him when he began to run.
"America, where the bloody hell do you think you're going?!" England yelled as the young nation stumbled, feeling as though his body was being pulled downward. He couldn't hear the Brit's words, anyones yells and remarks, so he kept on running, shoving the double doors open with his shoulder, hands shaking so badly he probably couldn't have held onto the handles even if he tried. The heavy doors closed behind him with a slam.
He knew the halls like the back of his hand, so he ran to the closest bathroom. He knew he couldn't hold it back anymore, his fluids dribbling from the corner's of his mouth. Not bothering to even go into a stall, the blond nation tossed his glasses aside as he heaved forward, vomiting into the sink. Shaking uncontrollably, his skin damp and cold, he lurched again, acidic contents spilling into the porcelain sink, splattering over onto the countertops as well. He turned on the faucet, letting the water wash away the mess as he kept on vomiting. It didn't seem right, that he could see the water, his vomit hitting the sink, and not hear a single sound of it.
Resting his forehead against the mirror, it felt like he stomach was finally empty. Breathing heavily, he wiped up his mess with a paper towel. After rinsing his mouth out with water to get rid of the horrid taste on his tongue, he splashed his face, washing away the sweat. Some of his hearing was slowly returning to him, so he closed his blue eyes, letting the sound of the faucet calm himself down.
After a minute of staying still, making sure his stomach was completely done, he slide down to the tile floor, resting his back against the wall. He was still confused on to why he had suddenly gotten so sick, but he was too exhausted to think too heavily on it.
The entire meeting room, just a moment ago spewing insults and remarks towards the blond nation, had grown unnaturally quiet. One of the world's most powerful countries had ran out of the meeting, green in the face and not even to walk straight. Everyone seemed to shut themselves up when they noticed that something was actually wrong.
"What just happened aru?" China asked loudly, eyes still on the door.
"I don't know. Did something happen in the US?" Lithuania asked, pulling out his phone to check, but promptly put it back in his pocket when Russia smiled at him. The other two Baltic followed suit, looking at there desks and remaining quiet.
"Canada, do you anything about what is wrong with Amerique?" France asked the panicking blond boy. While happy somebody was acknowledging him, he also felt a bit guilty that he had no idea what was wrong with America. He seemed fine not that long ago. He shook his head, debating whether to go after him or not.
"Veh, he should eat pasta! Pasta cures all sickness!" Italy grinned. At some point he had come down from the podium and started hanging on Germany's arm, glad he didn't have to talk anymore. Germany simply rolled his eyes.
"It does not seem like there is anything happening in The United States that could affect America's health," Japan chimed in, scrolling through news articles on his phone. Nothing extreme with politics or any shootings in the country. If anything, the only real new involved the ending of a highly popular reality television show.
"Alright, until we find out if America is alright, the meeting is postponed," Germany announced, standing up so everyone could see. The german turned towards England, who was biting on his knuckle, not exactly listening. "England, go check on America."
England had heard himself being address, lost in his thoughts. America had definitely looked sick, but there was something else, something familiar to him, but quite out of place being emitted from the dimwit blond. He was only snapped from his thoughts when France elbowed him in the ribs.
"Angleterre?" England looked to France and then Germany, realizing they had been talking to him. Slapping the Frenchman away from him, he stood up, putting his papers in his briefcase and heading towards the door.
"Yes, yes I'll go check up on the boy," he mumbled, understanding what was asked of him. The Englishman left the room, murmurs and whispers fluttering about the room, both of concern and insults ceasing when the door was closed.
"Damn it America. Always causing problems," England grumbled to himself, traveling down the long hall. Given his state, the man assumed his ex-colony had run into the nearest bathroom, not too far off. Stopping in front of the white bathroom door, he pressed his ear to the wood to hear if he was vomiting. It was quite except for a soft breathing and the sound of water. He knocked on the door.
"America? I'm coming in," he called politely, for he was a gentleman, opening the door and walking into the large, over decorated bathroom. The stench of vomit was strong still, making him cringe. His emerald eyes immediately spotted the blond sitting on the ground, tiredly looking up at him.
His skin was pale and his sandy hair was sticking to his forehead. His bright eyes were clouded with exhaustion and confusion. He could hardly remember the last time America looked so terrible, even back when he was a child. Kneeling down and picking up his glasses, which had fallen off the counter, he placed them back on the younger face. His hand moved from his glasses to his forehead. America weakly moved his hand away.
"Just let me check, you wanker," he protested, though with none of his usual bite. Again he put his hand to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. However, in the meeting room, he could have sworn he had felt the weakest of magics appear. It was so slight that maybe he was simply imagining it, but he had to be certain.
"Dude, I'm fine England," America lied with a chuckle, wanting to shove the man away. He resisted, letting the man touch his face gently as if he was a child. After a moment, he saw his large eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, tilting his head in though.
"So there isn't any...fever," he mumbled to himself, confusing the younger nation. He watched as England shook himself out of his thoughts. "Either way, it seems you aren't feeling well."
"The hero always feels awesome!" he cheered, tongue burning at the disgusting words.
"The meeting is going to be postponed, whether you feel awesome or not. You are a superpower, so anything happening to your country is important to all of us, understand?" England explained, helping the younger up to his feet. America was still a little dizzy, but caught himself on the sink. He spared only a glance at ther shorter man, feeling anger burning in his chest again. When people cared about America, it was the country, not him. The look of concern in his eyes was a lie, not a care for him in the least and yet he dared to look at him with pity.
"Alright then, I'll go home and rest a bit," America shrugged as if he was told his bunny had died. He was relieved though that he could actually get some rest and not have to worry about the other nations. He just really wanted some sleep. "Call me when you guys decide on a new date, kay?"
"We wouldn't have any choice but to. Either way, will you be alright getting back home, or do you need me to drive you?" England asked, opening the door for the younger. America laughed loudly, coming out painfully from his sore throat.
"I can get home on my own. I'm not old or anyone like you dude!" he joked, walking away from England, who was now bright red.
"I'm not old, you bloody idiot!" he yelled, fed up and heading back to the meeting hall. America laughed as he watched him storm down the hall and slamming the meeting room door behind him. The second the doors shut, his laughter ceased, leaving him with a frown on his face and very sleepy eyes. He was still for a moment before turning to leave.
"Tony, I'm home!" America called out as he opened the front door to his apartment. The nation was greeted with silence as he tossed his light briefcase and keys onto his couch. The strange little alien didn't seem to be there. About ready to call, he noticed a note on the coffee table, written in a language that most other countries could never understand. Reading over the message, it seemed the grey roommate was off in California, visiting some friends. He wasn't aware that Tony had other alien friends on Earth, but then again, Tony never told him all that much.
Exhausted from the day, even though it was only about three in the afternoon, he just wanted to go to sleep. Moving his things onto the floor, he laid down on the couch, kicking off his shoes and using his bomber jacket as a pillow. Shutting his eyes, he quickly fell asleep, body relaxing after a stressful day. A small smile traced his lips.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had curled up and fell asleep, but it had to have been a good couple of hours, the room dark with little beams of moonlight seeping in through the curtains. Sitting up with a yawn, he ran his shaky fingers through his hair. It then dawned on him that he was shaking.
Heart pounding in his chest, threatening to burst from his ribcage, America stood up from his couch. Suddenly feeling cold, he slipped his bomber jacket back on. Looking around the room, something didn't feel right. The cold still chilling him, his apartment seemed emptier. Maybe he was imagining it, but either way, he wasn't enjoying it. It felt as if he wasn't even there at all.
"Today is just really weird," he sighed to himself, slipping on his glasses. He was about to make his way to the bedroom to go back to sleep, hoping the next day would start making sense, when a small ding stopped him in his tracks.
"Yes, I apologize about that. You being a nation, my magic had difficulty connecting to you, which caused your illness," an eerily similiar voice explained politely. America immediately spun around to confront whoever was stupid enough to break into his house. Who he saw, or rather what, wasn't what he had been expecting.
"E-england?"
In his living room, stood England, dressed in khakis and a pink sweater, a light aqua cloak draping in front of his shoulders, and standing in front of an open elevator, light from the florescent bulbs spilling onto his carpet. He was smiling sweetly, bright pink eyes, a small ring of bright blue surrounding the pupil, glowing in the darkness. When he spotted his eyes, he realized that it wasn't England.
"Who are you," America asked, taking a step backwards. The imposter England took no mind of the boy's confused look and walked up to him. America flinched when he saw the man was walking not on the ground, but a inch above it, as if walking on air. The man, now standing in front of him bowed, taking America's shaking hand in his own and planting a light kiss on his fingers.
"Arthur Kirkland, at your service," he introduced, blue overtaking the pink in his eyes as he looked up the blond a twisted looking grin.
"It is an honor to make your acquaintance, ALICE."
A/N: Finally! You don't know how happy I am that I finished this! I have so many plans for The 25th Alice, but this chapter was preventing me from progressing. But it's finally done! I had to rewrite this three times, so I am so happy I am going to take up three sentences just to say how flipping happy I am. Anyhow, chapters should come out with some more regularity now that this is done.
Surprisingly, I don't have to much of an author's note here. Funny, thought that I would.
Well, thank you again everyone for your support and I hope you all are enjoying ALICE! Please leave a review if you could and thank you! I'll see you all next chapter!