Wow. I'm surprised this got so popular. Thanks everyone!
The Allies, after learning about Italy, watched over their American friend with a more critical eye. They did their best to get him to open up, but the American rebuffed them coldly. He was still bitter against England for taking away his only source of sanity. He had been thinking of ways to write to Italy, but decided it was too dangerous. England was watching his every move, and he had no doubt that the other nation would quickly out him if he dared to speak with Italy. There was also the probability that Germany was monitoring any communication that probably entered Italy or not, so from both sides, America was screwed.
"Amerique!" France crooned at the retreating nation.
Sighing, the young man turned to regard the Frenchman. He regarded the only other male figure that had been in his life since he was first found. It was this reason alone that he didn't just walk away.
"What is it France?" America asked as he tried to hold back his annoyance.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the bar with me. Just us two," France proposed.
America sighed and shook his head.
"I just want to head back to my hotel room," he responded instead.
"Allez, mon petit, it's just one drink," France pressured.
America turned away from the older man and began walking away.
"I said no," America grounded out angrily. "I just want to be alone for a while."
"Amerique," France said, this time firmer. "We're all worried about you. You haven't been acting yourself. We're just trying to get you to open up to us. We just want to help."
America turned and glared at France, making the man freeze in fear. Only England had ever been on the receiving end of those glares, and that man already had a well-coated protection over his body. France had no such covering, and the American, while skinny, was still stronger than him.
"None of you wanted to help me three months ago, why start now?" America questioned bitterly.
"Amerique-"
"Just leave me alone," America muttered, before turning and walking away. He didn't let the other man see the tears beginning to form in his eyes.
France stood still, surprised by the American's outburst.
What is wrong with him?
Italy wished he could remember how all eight of them had gotten to the point they were currently situated in, but his mind was working too fast for it to even properly go back into the memory banks and bring up the events. As it was, Germany was standing with his Lugar aimed straight at America, who looked unafraid, perhaps one of the real emotions he'd shown aside from being tired. Off to the side were the Allies, who were all just as surprised by the turn of events. Japan was next to them, obviously keeping them in place. Italy was behind Germany like he always was.
"Surrender or else I'll shoot you," Germany ordered in his thick accent.
America's brows furrowed. He continued to look unafraid, and this only prompted Italy to wonder if the boy no longer feared death. Did... did he welcome it? That thought had given Italy a chill of fear. The silence irritated Germany to the point that he readied his weapon.
"I said surrender," Germany ordered.
Embodying the image of an arrogant American that all the nations viewed him as, America stood definitely against Germany, remaining quiet and not backing down. England was shouting for America to do something, anything, and Italy was almost ready to do the same thing when Germany suddenly fired. Italy heard a distinct cry of terror coming from his right, but he was too focused on the American who was surely going to be hit by the...
Before everyone's eyes, a cubicle of light surrounded America, stopping the bullet from getting anywhere near the American. Seeing this caused everyone's eyes to widen,... but only America's seemed to have widen in horror. The minute the cubical had risen, America fell to his knees and released a long scream of anguish. Everyone only continued to be in surprise by this sudden turn of events; everyone but England. The minute he saw the boy hit the ground, the gentleman ran towards him. The magic shield, sensing its creator, disappeared, allowing England to kneel to the ground and grip the American's shoulders, who was crying at this point.
He wasn't exactly sure on what propelled him to comfort his ex-colony, but seeing the boy in fear had spurred him to action.
"Calm down America," England began, using one hand to cup the American's cheek. "Calm down. It's okay. The bullet didn't get to you. It's okay."
America released another anguish sob and shook his head. Out of instinct (and possibly out of fear), the American launched himself and wrapped his arms around the Englishman's body, crying into his chest. England looked at him in confusion, but continued to try and shush the poor boy, rubbing his hand up and down the American's back as the nation cried his eyes out. Italy, having a guess as to why the American was crying his heart out, stepped forward, ignoring Germany's surprised protest. Getting over his own fears, he stepped up beside the Englishman.
"E...England?" Italy asked.
England looked at the Italian, more worried about America than he was with a member of the Axis so close.
"What is it Italy?" England asked.
"I... I have an idea on why America is acting like this," Italy responded.
"You do?" England asked, trying to turn his body to face Italy more.
Every time he tried to move, the American would clutch tighter to him, like he was afraid to let go. This confused England; this wasn't the same America who had fought him tooth-and-nail to be free from him. What had spurned this sudden closeness?
Italy nodded, looking sympathetically at the young man. "But...can we talk about it somewhere else? I think America needs to rest."
England looked and saw that America was slowly losing consciousness. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair, wanting to wait until America was near-passing out before doing anything; the boy was still gripping England rather tight fully (painfully).
"I never thought he'd be that afraid of a bullet," England murmured as he carded his fingers through America's hair.
"It wasn't the bullet," Italy responded quickly.
England looked up at him in confusion.
"Then... then what was it?" England asked.
"Like I said, I will tell you when we're somewhere for him to rest," Italy answered, though he wasn't exactly sure where would be the best place for them to speak.