Confession time: I've never written the Nordics before in my life. Nor have I read, well, any fics about them. So I apologize if I get some characterization wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything involving Hetalia. I just think this area here at the top looks silly without something between it and the title.

White Winter

Chapter Three: Alaska

Six hours after the dawn when Winter never appeared, Canada found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Sweden's rented SUV, feeling very small. As they rumbled across the Yukon-Alaskan border, he glanced to their stern-faced driver with trepidation and resisted the urge to shrink into the shell of his coat. "This really isn't necessary. You…You guys don't have to go to all this trouble."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Demark demanded from the second row of seats. Finland covered the ear that was closest to his loud relative and winced away. Norway and Iceland, sitting in the far back, exchanged a roll of their eyes. "Of course we have to come along! And by golly, I'll tell you why."

Canada's face flushed and he sank back into his chair, clutching Kumajiro. "No, really, you don't have to…"

"One," continued the Dane, without even noticing his discomfort. "General Winter is our collective responsibility. If something's fucked up with him, it's gonna mean big trouble for the whole goddamn world. So we better damn well see this thing through the end.

"Two, if your hunch is right and our big frosted freak really did do something to America, then we better damn well get him patched up right, or it's gonna mean hell for the whole world one way or another. That brother of yours ain't used to this mess, and I don't wanna see what the world's only remaining superpower's like half-traumatized by a being of pure elemental force like ol' frosty."

The very thought made Canada's insides squirm. He sank deeper into his chair, trying not to attack the haunting edge of wrongness in his world with images of his twin, frost-bitten and bloody in the most horrid of ways, lying wounded and abandoned somewhere in the icy wasteland. He tried to tell himself that America was strong, freakishly so, and more than a match for most opponents. But the General was not most opponents.

"Three, who the hell else are you gonna call, freakin' Russia? He's as crazy as the old man! He's half-liable to snap on you at any second!

"Four, it's not like we can all just hop on plane and go home, especially not since you called Icey and me in from our places on such short notice.

"And finally." Denmark's gloved hand suddenly descended onto Canada's head, startling the younger nation from his thoughts. The Dane grinned and ground the hell of his palm playfully into the other's scalp. "Number five: You. Are. Our. Friend. So we're in this together, no matter what."

Canada blinked in surprise and peered into the back seat. Finland sat with a large first aid kit in his lap, going over the things they would need to patch America up. Norway had an ancient book balanced on his knees, which he thumbed through while silently conversing with his invisible troll friend about the nature of Winter as an entity. Iceland just met his gaze and offered a tiny twitch of his lips – his version of a smile.

Canada settled back into his seat and, for the first time since hearing his brother's voicemail, allowed himself to smile. Being so isolated, with only his brother at his borders, it was nice to know that he had friends.

Kumajiro rolled his head back and looked up at his owner with curious black eyes. "Who're you?"

Canada sighed. He glanced outside and realized that the area looked familiar. He double-checked the GPS, rolled down the window and craned his head out to peer down the long dirt road. "That's it," he called to Sweden, pointing to a small brown dot that rested on the horizon. "That's Al's place."

Sweden grunted and pressed down on the accelerator, jostling them all in their seats. Denmark swore and disappeared behind Canada's chair again to check the protective sheaf on his battleaxe. Canada stroked Kumajiro's fur and tried to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest.

They pulled to a stop directly in front of Alfred's two-story cabin, not even sliding an inch on the thick snow. Canada jumped out of the car before Sweden could even hit the breaks, He made a bee-line for the door, but his hand had only brushed the knob when a pale, hulking figure appeared in the corner of his vision.

Canada leapt back with a yelp before he realized who it was. "Russia! Ah…you scared me half to death."

Russia was smiling his usually little smile, but it didn't stop his dusky violent eyes from behind a bit disturbing. "A pity, comrade."

Denmark trotted up with his axe over his shoulder, a distrustful gleam in his eye and the rest of the Nordics in tow. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Russia shrugged. "America and I were scheduled to have a meeting next weekend. When I called to cancel, his...secretary, I believe …told me he was here, and I guess what might have happened."

Canada ran his teeth along his lower lip. "I don't think she's actually a secretary, she's a soldier, and Al would get mad if you called her that…"

"It does not matter. America is not here."

Canada's heart skipped a painful beat. Kumajiro slipped from his grasp and landed, with a plop, in the snow.

It was Finland who had the voice to respond. "What do you mean he's not here?"

"See for yourself." Russia pushed the door, which swung open without a fight. "The lock is broken. The knob is useless also – frozen."

Canada's heart skipped another beat. He dashed forward, into the house, but only made it to the stairs before his feet flew out from under him. Finland gasped, "Canada!"

"I'm all right!" Canada shouted back, grabbing the railing of the stairs for a handhold. He used the rails to pull himself onto the stairs with a jump. "Be…be careful, there's ice."

"This far in?" Norway entered and confirmed it, brushing his fingers against the edge of the frozen sheet. He frowned. "There's blood here. Frozen, in the ice."

Canada swallowed. "America's?"

Norway's frown deepened. He looked to an empty spot of air above his own hand, where a magical friend was perched. A moment later, he offered a grim nod.

Canada pulled his eyes away from the dark red speckles and turned them to the house at large. There was no sign of a struggle, not even a knick-knack out of place on the walls. But the ice, and the blood…had America been snuck up upon?

He hurried up the stairs.

There was more ice on second story, speckled across the carpet and walls. A fading handprint, much larger than Canada's and thus too big to belong to America, stained the wallpaper outside of America's room. On the floor beneath it was a splatter of blood.

America's jacket lay atop his bed, and his shoes lay discarded on the floor. Canada picked the jacket up and searched it inside and out for damage. There was none, which brought him a bit of relief – America's treasure, at least, was safe.

Iceland appeared in the door. "We've searched the entire place," he reported. "There's no sign of America."

Canada took a deep breath. When he turned to the other nation, Russia and rest of the Nordics had joined them in the hall. "He was here," Canada insisted, holding out the jacket. "See?"

Sweden grunted. Iceland stepped aside to allow the taller nation in. With an intense glare, Sweden made his way to the bed. Canada followed him with his eyes. "What is it?"

"D'nt," Sweden said, pointing to the headboard. Canada looked. There was indeed a dent, and a red stain he had not noticed against the dark wood. Sweden beckoned him closer, putting a large hand around the back of his head. Slowly, gently, Sweden pushed Canada until his forehead rested within the dent. It was exactly the right size.

"As I told you," Russia said, stepping into the room. "America is not here."

Canada straightened and turned to Russia, his stance steady even though his hands were shaking. "But where is he?" he asked. "Where's my brother?"

"It must be obvious," Russia said, without a flicker of emotion. "General Winter has taken him."

Canada blanched. His hand slipped over his own mouth and he sat down on the bed, holding the jacket against him. Finland hurried to the younger nation's side, but Canada was only shocked. None of them had even imagined that possibility.

Denmark rounded on Russia. "There's no way."

"You don't believe me?"

"It's never happened before."

"Of course it has."

Denmark snorted and adjusted his axe threateningly, popping a crick from his neck. "Come on, you crazy bastard. We don't even know if He lives anywhere."

"I know," said Russia with confidence.

"Oh, do you?"

"I have been there."

All eyes turned instantly to the tallest northern nation. If Russia was in any way overwhelmed by the sudden attention, he did not show it. "He took me there, when I was very young. I remained with him for many years."

Norway crossed his arms. "'There' you said. There, where?"

"His home. It is a place where there are no people and no countries, only Him and His home. "

Canada jumped up. "Ivan, you have to take me there."

"Canada," Finland interrupted. "It could be dangerous."

"Of course it's dangerous," Denmark said.

"I know it is," Canada said without hesitation. "But I can't abandoned Al. He's my brother; I have to get him back. So Ivan, please."

To everyone's surprise, Russia broke the gaze that Canada held, averting his violet eyes. "I'm sorry. If I could take you there, I would. But I do not know how."

"You said you'd been there!" Denmark snapped.

"I said that He brought me there. While we traveled, I slept – He did not give me a choice, and I did not leave His home while I stayed there."

Iceland's frown mirrored Norway's. Though he was almost as small as Finland, he narrowed his eyes at Russia with an air of distrust and judgment. "Why would he bring you back at all?"

"He grew tired of me," said Russia, oddly resigned. "As he has grown tired of you – of all of us. After all, what can offer him, but different flavors of the same feast that he has eaten for millennia? He does not need us to partake of that, especially not now, when he has America to give him so much more."

"He can't have America!" Canada snapped, startling everyone, even Russia himself. The young man's arms were still trembling around his brother's jacket, but his tone and stance were so strong that no one could even think of arguing. "I don't care what He wants, He can't have him. Wherever He is, wherever He's keeping him, I'm getting him back. If that means I have to do it myself, then I will, but I'm not letting Him have my brother. I'd sooner die –"

His voice cracked. He bit his lip, turned pink at his outburst and lowered his head, clutching America's jacket close to him like a security blanket. For a moment, the gathered nations were left in silence.

Finally, Russia spoke. "You must take me with you. The inside of His house is a maze of ice. If we reach it, I can guide you through – otherwise, you will find neither America nor your own salvation."

Canada's flush deepened and he lowered his head further, hiding his thankful smile.

"We'll go too," Finland insisted, meeting Sweden's eye. "All of us, right?"

Sweden nodded. Norway and Iceland exchanged a glance of their own. Denmark threw his hands into the air in exasperation.

"I said that!" he insisted. "I said that in the car. We're sticking together to figure this thing the hell out, that's all fine, no argument there. But you know, there's still one tinsy little problem that we haven't answered yet: where the hell are we going to go?"

No one had an answer for him. Yet.

TBC…