The van was gritty and the cleaner patches shone the light back into their burning eyes, blinding them more than the actual sun. They squinted through their sunglasses at the world around them as Germany unlocked the driver's side door. He climbed in and pushed a button, unlocking the rest of the doors as well. Prussia climbed in beside him and the others clambered into the back. Russia had fallen unconscious again after his short interaction with the doctor and England, America and France shifted him into a seat in the back next to Japan. Canada sat on the other side and America pushed in next to him.

The van wasn't made for nine people, but with a bit of arguing and shoving they all managed to fit in. England and America had to trade places for the reason that England was smaller so he would fit better and that if he stayed next to France he would "smash the man's head in with Russia's pipe and force-feed him scones to keep him quiet." Everyone was fairly certain he didn't have any scones with him, but they decided to move him just in case.

"Now we need to get this sorted out," Germany said after he had pulled out of the parking lot and onto the empty road.

"I thought we already did," Prussia muttered.

"Not even close. For starters, does anyone have any ideas where we are?" The others were silent. "Come on, someone has to know! Can anyone feel anything at all?"

"I feel sexy, does that count?" asked France.

"I can't feel a thing beyond my physical body," England said, eyebrows knitted together. "I don't understand it, we should at least be able to feel which country we're in."

"I thought we were in America?" said Prussia.

"We might very well still be," Japan explained. "But we cannot know for sure unless one of us feels it and I have a feeling that no on can."

"Well, there's only one explanations," America said, holding up a finger as he looked around at the others. "I can't feel a thing and neither can anyone else so the only logical explanation is that we aren't in a country."

"Are you suggesting what I hope to God you aren't?" asked England.

"Aliens."

"And there it is."

"No, really," America insisted. He leaned forward on his elbows. "If we can't feel the country we're in then the only logical explanation is that we aren't in one. So either we're in the middle of the Pacific Ocean or we've been taken hostage by little green men."

"It just gets better and better."

"They've obviously taken our form so that we'll trust them and used a translator to speak in English."

"And put on an American accent?" asked Canada, rolling his eyes.

"What? That guy didn't have an accent."

England turned and banged his head lightly on the window. Italy, who had been oddly quiet since they left the office began to shake and a high-pitched whine emanated from him. Germany glanced back at him worriedly.

"America, shut up," he said. "You're scaring Italy."

"You know what?" America continued. "I bet this is Mars. That would explain why we're in the desert." He looked past France to where the window was, showing only a barren, dusty landscape. There wasn't a building in sight. The only thing that broke up the flat brown was a grove of dead trees a few miles away.

England stopped, his head leaning up against the window. "How would you explain the fact that we're breathing then if Mars has no atmosphere?"

"Maybe we're in a dome of some sort."

"We're in Nevada," Germany said.

"What?"

"Look," he said, pointing at a sign up ahead that read "Bellhaven, Nevada 7m."

"Oh."

"Seven miles huh?" Prussia asked. "Do you think we can make it all the way before America and England kill each other?" The two nations glared at him and he smiled. "What? I'm just saying."

"Can everyone just calm down? Italy, stop making that noise." Germany sighed as Italy's whine turned to silent weeping and then to hiccups.

"G-Germany?" he asked. "Are you sure we're not on Mars?"

"Positive."

Other than Italy's fading hiccups the van fell silent for a little while as they all watched the horizon for any buildings. Canada, squashed between an unconscious Russia and a brooding England, twiddled his thumbs quietly. Then he began to think. He thought about the odd fact that even though they were supposedly in the chambers for four years each of them was sporting a fresh haircut. He thought about how all of them seemed oddly clean and shaven. Canada knew that there were people hired in hospitals to keep coma patients clean and cut their hair, so maybe it was true. Maybe they were human.

But if they were then what would that mean for them? Families. Jobs and shopping. Everything would be different. In fact, if he had been taken off the street four years ago Canada must have been quite young. He wasn't sure how old he was in nation years, but he knew it was still in the teens. He would have parents.

No. Germany had to be right, they were still nations, just a little disoriented. Speaking of Germany… "Germany?" he called.

His response was a sigh and "What is it now America?"

"Canada," he corrected quietly. "Are you sure you should be driving with a broken hand?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay. Sorry." He sat back again, shifting Russia's arm out from under his back so he could lean comfortably on the backrest. He felt so tired ever since he woke up in that tube. Maybe a nap would be a good idea. Italy and America had already fallen asleep and Canada decided he would like to join them.

As he settled down to sleep Japan was thinking similarly. His old body wasn't meant to take this kind of stress and all of his joints were aching. But he kept his eyes open, watching for the city they were supposed to be reaching soon. Once they were in civilization he could rest again. As he was thinking it Prussia called out.

"Hey, look! I see something!"

It was true. On the horizon ahead of them was a clutter of things. The thing Prussia had spied was the water tower, marked in big letters "BELLHAVEN". It was a small town rather than the city they had been expecting. The buildings were all low to the ground and their paint was worn as dull as the sand around them.

"Do you think there's a hotel?" asked France. "I could use a shower and some beauty sleep." He laughed. "Not that I need it."

"I doubt a town this small would have a hotel," Germany replied. "A motel maybe, but I think we should just get some gas, a map and find a larger city."

"I think we're missing a major point here," England said as he glared out the window. "Does anyone here actually have any money? My wallet's emptier than the desert."

Germany glanced at Prussia. The ex-nation reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Nein," he sighed. "No money, just an expired drivers license."

"I don't have any either," Germany grumbled.

Japan and France checked their wallets too and came up with nothing. England woke up Canada gently and asked him to check as well. The northern nation blearily opened up his wallet and declared that he had a credit card and five cents worth of Canadian Tire money.

"We can use the credit card," Germany said.

England took it from Canada and looked at it. "Matthew Williams? That's your name?"

"Yes," Canada murmured, halfway back to sleep.

"Interesting," he muttered, storing the information away for later. "Well I hope it works. If we really have been gone for four years there's a good chance his bank account has been closed." Germany hummed his agreement.

"Can I see that?" asked Prussia, looking back at them. England passed it to France who passed it to Prussia. The Prussian man examined it. "Scotiabank," he said. "Never heard of it. And Matthew Williams? Hmm." He took a moment to mull it over in his mind. "Matthew, Matt, Mattie. I dunno," he said at last. "I think I still prefer Birdie."

"Well, what's your name then?" asked England.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," Prussia said, handing the credit card to his brother. England snickered. "What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry," England said through his hand. "I just can't see you as a Gilbert."

"Why? I'm awesome. Gilbert is awesome. Ergo my being named Gilbert is freaking awesome."

"Would you two please be quiet?" asked Germany through gritted teeth.

They quieted down for a second and then Prussia turned around and asked, "Hey, Francey-pants, what's your name?"

France smirked. "Mon nom est Francois Bonnafoy," he said with as much flourish as was physically possible in the confined space.

"So your name is Francis?" asked England.

"Oui."

He snickered again earning a dirty look from his French rival. The van stopped and Germany sat back in his seat. He turned to look at them all fully. "I'm going to get the map and I need Canada to come with me for his credit card number. When I come back each of you will either be quiet or you will be dead. Understood?"

They all nodded their agreement. "Good. Somebody wake up Canada and send him in."

Germany opened the door and climbed out onto the pavement of the Gas n' Go and slammed the door shut with his good hand. The bang startled the others awake and they all looked around sleepily. Italy started calling for Germany and France and America had to switch places so that France could give some of his big brotherly comfort. Canada had to climb over a few people to get out, but eventually he made it and jogged past the lonely gas pumps to the store where Germany was searching through a rack of map books.

The silence in the van only lasted for a few seconds before they broke and started up a conversation.

"Alfred F. Jones? What does the F stand for?"

"I dunno. Franklin, Freedom? F*ck, I don't know."

"I sincerely hope that f*ck wasn't one of the options," muttered England.

"So does that mean there's a Jones family out there somewhere?" asked Japan.

"Maybe," America said with a shrug. "Who knows."

"Do you think there's a Beilschmidt family out there somewhere?" asked Prussia. "I'm too awesome to not have anyone waiting for me out there."

"Veh~ I hope there's a family out there for me!" Italy said happily.

"I hate to put a damper on your enthusiasm Italy-san, Prussia-san, but it is highly unlikely that any of us has someone out there."

"Well at least I'm not named after a car," Prussia grumbled.

"Do you still think we're nations?" asked England.

"I think that we should not take everything Hamlet-san said at face value. We should still hold on to the theory that he lied and that we and the others were kidnapped, which would put them all in grave danger, while still maintaining a firm grasp on the idea that we may in fact be human."

The others considered the nation's (or man's) explanation. "So are you saying that we can't know one way or the other?" asked America.

"I'm saying that both ideas have merit and we can't disregard either until we have substantial evidence."

"Japan has a point," England said thoughtfully. "And before we know which is true we have to be careful. I suggest that when we are in public we refer to each other only by our human names. Just in case."

"What good would that do us?" France asked obnoxiously.

"Well for one thing," England replied through gritted teeth, "It means that if we are actually still nations we don't really want the public knowing we exist. For another, if we really are human we don't exactly want to be put in the loony bin for thinking we aren't human."

"I agree with England-san," Japan said, watching Germany maneuver the gas pump's hose through the window. Germany's hair wasn't greased back like it normally was. Since they had woken up it had been hanging over his forehead in a messy clump of sweat. "We need to appear normal until we can contact our bosses and know for certain."

"But that doctor man said if we told anyone what he was doing we would get in trouble," Italy said shakily.

"That is true," England put in.

"Maybe we should return to the meeting centre and search for proof," France put in. England opened his mouth to shoot him down, but closed it when he realized that it was actually a fairly reasonable suggestion.

The driver's door opened and Germany slouched into his seat. The door beside America opened and Canada appeared carrying three party-sized bags of chips. America whooped and took a bag before letting his brother pass. "I'm starving!" he announced as he pulled open the bag of all-dressed. The scent of junk food radiated from the opening immediately and he took a big breath of it. "Ah, smell that smell! It's just like heaven."

"I didn't know heaven smelled like clooged-up arteries," England said, more to himself than anyone else.

The van started up again with a sputtering hum and they were off again, down the empty streets at the astounding speed of 25 miles per hour. "Why so slow, West?"

"There is such thing as a speed limit, bruder, and since I don't have a driver's license it would be bad to break any laws right now."

They puttered along the road, throwing up dust behind them. The buildings in the town looked old and worn out. "I swear I just saw a tumble weed go by," England muttered.

"This town probably doesn't even have a police force," America said through a mouthful of food. He had already managed to inhale half of the bag of chips and France was finding it harder and harder to keep his jeans free of crumbs. "I bet you could go, like, 120 and no one would care."

"I'm just being safe," Germany argued.

"Couldn't you be safe in a more – I dunno – exciting way?"

"Just be quiet and let me drive."

"There's a question," France put in. "Where are we driving to?"

"According to this map we aren't too far from Carson city and that being a state capitol I would assume that America has some sort of government facility there." He gripped the wheel tightly with his good hand, his frustration showing through the tiny veins popping up beneath his skin.

"Well actually," America said, biting another chip in half. "There's no place in Arizona that deals with people like us. Kind of weird actually, most of my major cities do, but Arizona is like that. But there are a couple of options in San Francisco."

"San Francisco?"

"Yup." He reached in for another handful of chips. The bag rustled, sending a spasm of annoyance down Germany's spine.

"Right then. Let's go to San Francisco." He turned the steering wheel sharply and slammed down on the gas and the break, sending the van into a lopsided donut. Italy screamed along with the tires. Then the German slammed on the breaks sending all of his passengers flying into one another painfully before hitting the gas again. Off they went down the road at the haphazard speed of 100 miles per hour, through the deserts of Arizona and towards the state of California.

With the added time spent stopping off at gas stations for bathroom breaks and getting more snacks for everyone, by the time they entered San Francisco it was bordering on nine and the sky had gone dark. As they entered the city the stars disappeared, replaced by the light pollution and cloud cover of a dense group of people. Sky-scrapers towered over them and bright lights flashed telling them to buy this and order that or watch this program on TV.

But through all the noise and brightness the nations slept, worn out from all of their unexpected exercise. Germany and Japan were the only ones able to keep their eyes open as Japan had napped for a good part of the way and Germany was too awake to let himself sleep, so they took turns at the wheel. The others were passed out peacefully on each others' shoulders. Italy, who had been moved to the back to make room for Prussia, was even resting his head on Russia's shoulder, knowing perfectly well what could happen if the other should decide to wake up. But Russia hadn't been waking up often and when he did it was only for short periods of time. None of them were sure what the sedative the guards had given him was or even when it would wear off, but they were grateful for it.

Japan glanced over the map again, directing Germany through the bustling streets to the spot America had marked off as being a special government building. As they progressed towards it the streets they drove on become quieter and quieter, more and more out of the way until they weren't entirely sure if the alley they were on could be classified as a street at all.

Japan looked around for a street sign. "There," he said, pointing down a small street.

"Are you sure?" Germany's voice was uncertain and Japan could understand. As the pulled down the little road they passed between two dark and ratty apartment buildings. Past them the buildings continued on their left but became a fenced off lot on the other.

"This should be it."

The van rolled to a stop and Germany got out. The building that was supposed to be a meeting hall was in actuality an abandoned Coka-Cola factory. The windows were boarded up and the walls of the building were coated in a thick layer of grime that barely gave enough space to see the reddish brickwork underneath. The place hadn't been touched in years and it showed its age horribly.

A low grumble erupted in Germany's throat. He spun around and with a look of destructive fury he charged around the van, past Japan emerging from his seat, and to the door beside his. He whipped it open and reached in, grabbing a sleeping nation by his collar and yanking him out of the darkness of the van into the glow of the city lights. He threw America violently into the fence that separated them from the open space of the factory yard and yelled.

As soon as he was lifted, America's eyes opened and they widened in pain when his back hit the fence with a ringing clang. He stumbled to the side, trying desperately to regain his balance before the German could reach him for another blow.

"Whoa!" he cried, ducking an oncoming fist. The fist hit the fence with force sending another ringing tone across the yard. "What the hell, man?"

"You said it would be here!"

He swung his fist again, keeping his injured hand close to his body. Another shattering ring. The noise had woken the others and they filed out of the van, bewilderment written all over their faces doing nothing to hide the shock. Germany pulled back his fist for another swing and America ducked, but his arm was grabbed from behind by France and Japan. Italy ran out and tackled him around the waist, not to hold him back but out of confusion over the entire situation.

Germany struggled in their grip, shouting for them to let go. They refused, simply holding on more tightly. Prussia went around in front of his brother, raising his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

"Whoa there, West!" he called. "Calm the f*ck down for a second. What's wrong? What happened?"

"This idiot," Germany seethed. "Sent us to the wrong location!" He pulled against his restraints and Italy cried out. England jumped on Germany, grabbing him around the chest and helping to hold him back.

"What?" asked America. "The hell I did! You probably took a wrong turn somewhere! Where are we?" He spun around, looking for a sign.

"America, they're right."

"What?" he stopped.

"I said they're right," called Canada from the corner. "We're right where you said it would be and it's not here."

"What? That can't be right." He jogged over to stand by his brother and looked up at the sign. "Well… maybe there are multiple roads called Waratah avenue?" he muttered, scratching his shoulder absently.

"Only one in the state, let alone the city," Canada told him. America grabbed the mapbook from him and flipped its pages to the index. He ran his finger down the list as he wandered back over to the others, Canada following quietly behind.

"This doesn't make sense," he said. "It should be here." America closed the book and looked around again. His eyes settled on the factory and his face fell. "I could have sworn…"

"Maybe you made a mistake?"

"I can't have, I come here all the time, I know this place."

"Obviously not or we would have found a meeting hall and not a shrine to your unhealthy eating habits!" Germany screamed.

The lights came on in an apartment nearby and someone shouted for them to shut up. They could barely hear them over the roar of the busy street just a few buildings away.

"Germany, calm down," France soothed, still gripping Germany's arm firmly.

"How can I calm down when this damn idiot can't even remember where he left a building?" the German raged, straining against the hands that held him.

"Germany-san," Japan said, "Your need to sleep. You haven't slept all day while the rest of us have. You are just overtired."

"His face will be overtired when I'm through with it!"

"First off that didn't make any sense," Prussia said, voice shaking, hands still raised. "Second, I don't think fighting will make the building magically appear. Just keep calm and carry on."

Germany screamed, his neck bulging with muscles and veins. America stepped in front of him, a dangerous move for anybody. "Can we all just calm. The f*ck. Down!"

His opponent sighed and relented, letting his healthy hand release from its pale and now bleeding fist. Japan and France looked amazed and uncertain. With a great deal of hesitation they let their fingers relax and then took them off their charge altogether. England did the same and picked Italy up off the ground where he was hugging Germany's leg and whimpering softly.

The German turned his back on America, face down and eyes closed and his shoulders slouching forward. "I suppose," he said tiredly, "that we should move on then."

"Just what I've been saying," America said relieved. "And maybe in the morning when we're all better rested and we no what's what you can get started on an apology."

Once again he had gone too far. Germany raised his head, face growing red, neck and arms tensing and he lifted his fist and spun around to hit America. But his punch was slow and America saw it coming, ducking below the line of fire and leaving Prussia open to the pain he had dodged. The punch landed squarely in Prussia's chest, sending the albino flying back into the side of the apartment building behind them.

His lungs were emptied in a burst of heat and pain and he slid down into the garbage bags lining the wall. They collapsed under the weight of his limp body and his eyes, half-lidded and crossing out of focus, slid shut as a drop of bloodied saliva fell from the corner of his open mouth.

"Oh God," England whispered.

France rushed over to his friend, shaking his shoulder and calling for him to wake up. The others stayed where they were, uncertain of what to do and feeling unable to do anything. France put two fingers under Prussia's jaw and held his breath, his heart pounding so hard he was worried it would leap out of his chest.

After several seconds he looked up at them. "Call an ambulance," he said. "Call an ambulance! His heart has stopped!"

A/N

Thank you for your reviews, favs and alerts! They really do help so keep it up and I'll keep this up. See you in two weeks

~CG