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Chapter 7 - Catatonic
"He's catatonic."
"How can you tell?"
"He looks no different than normal."
The Nations assembled around Spain who was sat at the kitchen table, thankfully alive, with a comically massive white bandage on his head and very dazed, fixed expression on his face.
America had shouted to everyone (almost deafening Russia who was stood next to him), "Come and look! Tony's been killed!" He had then bent down and looked at his friend. He was quite upset. He liked Spain - saw him as a 'cool dude' and actually didn't want to believe that the Nations could die.
He had found that Spain was still breathing, and heaved a sigh of relief.
"I felt his tubular vein!" he told England, who burst into the kitchen, closely followed by France. England had a cut lip and France's tri-coloured hair ribbon was in disarray.
"He's still alive!" America had then yelled happily.
England hurried past Russia's bulk and bent down next to Spain.
"All that blood loss could be fatal though…" Russia had said in a weird chirpy voice. He sounded positively cheery.
"It's tomato juice!" England had announced, checking the red pool around Spain's head. "He dropped a bowl of tomatoes," he'd added, pointing to the smashed bowl. But not before France had promptly fainted.
"So… someone tried to kidnap my dude Spain," America said as they stood around the aforementioned Nation, who had still not spoken a word or answered their questions.
England shook his head, "I think not, my boy…" (America winced at this, he hated being called 'boy') "… If they were going to kidnap Spain, I think he would be gone. Unless of course they couldn't carry him…"
Russia picked Spain up as if he were a ragdoll and then set him back down, "Then they are very weak," he said. "I can pick him up easily."
"Yes, that is interesting," England said.
"It is?" Russia looked pleased.
"More than you know," England said. "France, make a note," he told Francis. But the said French Nation was lying prone on the floor with Lily sat at his side (she was now the undisputed nurse) giving him smelling salts.
"Who knocked you out, Spain?" England asked, slowly and carefully. For the sixth time.
Spain just stared, glassy-eyed, his mouth slightly open. There was a large bump on the back of his head but other than that there did not seem to be any other injury.
"He's a vegetable!" Denmark said. His own mouth was hanging slightly open and he also looked dazed.
Feliciano burst into renewed sobs and hugged the Spaniard.
Romano shook his head, "Too much sangria," he said.
"I think not, Romano," England told him.
Russia waved his pipe in Spain's face. There was no reaction.
Austria, who was leaning against the doorway, was less than sympathetic, "Oh he's probably just messing about. Haha very funny. My music is not boring. He was like this when we were married."
"Haha! You married a dude!" Denmark laughed.
"So did you!" Austria responded.
"Yes, so what? It's not gay if you're a Viking," Denmark replied, chugging down another beer.
"You two just shut up. I need to think," England told them.
"Humph! Well!" Austria turned to stalk off to the music room.
"Just a moment. Not so fast!" England jumped up and grabbed Austria's sleeve.
"Mind my jacket! It's priceless!"
"You mean it's bloody old!" Denmark laughed.
"Emperor Francis the First gave this to me in 1752!" Austria said. "It's made from the best velvet and silk!"
"It's almost as old as me!" America was amazed.
"I have doorknobs older than you," England told the young American.
"Right, well if you don't need me…" Austria tried, again, to leave.
"Just hold on a minute there, Count Von Moneybags… Why aren't you worried about being kidnapped? You don't seem too scared?" England asked, stepping up to the Austrian so he was nose to nose with him.
Austria stepped back and adjusted his spectacles. "I have already answered your silly questions. I do not think I am in danger. I do not go around waving rifles at people like Vash does or pranking people like Gilbert or just being generally spendthrift like Germany."
Feliciano looked shocked. "Luddy doesn't spend lots of thrifts!"
"I mean he thinks nothing of throwing away a perfectly good pair of underpants that has just one hole in them!" Austria explained.
"And you think that's a good enough reason to get bashed on the head, do you?" England asked suspiciously.
Austria stuttered and stammered, "I… I.. I didn't say that!"
"Well I think it is!" Russia said.
"What about Berwald? He doesn't prank people, or shove rifles into people's faces," Finland butted in. "Why was he kidnapped?"
"Good question," England said.
France was just coming to consciousness on the floor and he groaned suggestively, "Oh mon dieu!"
"Oh here comes Monsieur Pervert…" England muttered.
"Well back to your question, I think it's possibly because Sweden looks like somebody else here…" Austria winked surreptitiously at England and nodded at Russia.
"I have no idea what you mean," England said huffily.
Finland shook his head. "Berwald just looks like Ber…"
"You mean from the back Sweden looks like Russia!" Denmark yelled.
Austria raised an eyebrow.
"He does not look anything like me!" Russia said, utterly appalled.
Finland was equally appalled, "They're the same height. But that's about it!"
"From the back they look the same!" England said.
Austria hurried out.
Russia spun round in circles as if he were trying to see what he looked like from the back. He failed.
"It's like a dog chasing his own tail," Finland remarked. Quietly.
"Do any of you who were in this kitchen, remember what happened to Spain? Anything? Am I talking to myself?" England asked.
"You sure are!" America said.
France had now got to his feet, but still looked very pale. "Eet eez awful!" he said shakily.
"It wasn't even blood, you French poof," England said.
"Spain was stirring his pot and then said he was going outside to smoke," Denmark said, "And the next minute… poof!" Denmark banged his hands together.
"Poof? You make it sound like he exploded?" England asked and turned to France, "Are you making notes?"
"Non. I am too ill!" Francis replied, a hand dramatically to his forehead.
"Nah… He just kinda disappeared," Denmark attempted to explain.
"You mean he disappeared from view?"
"Well I looked out the window and one minute he was there and the next he wasn't…"
"That is because he fell down," Russia said with certainty.
"Dude… that must be it," Denmark said, looking up at the Russian.
"Were you here as well?" England asked.
"Yep! I just told you!" Denmark replied.
"Not you, Den! Mr England means Mr Russia. You already said you were here!" Finland said, swiping Denmark around the head as if he were a naughty schoolboy.
"Me?" Russia asked.
"Yes. You. Where were you?" England asked.
"I don't want to tell you…" Russia said. He was still trying to twist his head to see what he looked like from behind.
"And why not?" England asked.
"Because he is our kidnapper! He kidnapped Switzy dude, then Berwald because he looks like him, then Germania cos Germania wears holey underwear and then Gil because Gil prank-calls him!" America shouted, utterly pleased with himself.
Russia threw a kitchen chair aside and launched himself at America, who backflipped out of harm's way.
"Stop this! Russia just tell me where you were!" England said, trying to distract the big Russian.
"I don't kidnap people! I just kill them!" Russia told them and then added hurriedly, "Well not them."
England felt a cold shiver running down his back. "Okay… I think…"
"How do we know they were kidnapped?" Finland asked. He was unscrewing a bottle of vodka and handing it to Russia. He'd spent enough time under Russia's rule to know that was the way you placated an angry Russian.
"What do you mean?" England asked.
"Well… shouldn't we get a ransom note if they were kidnapped?" Finland said.
Russia took it the vodka bottle from him and ruffled the small Finnish Nation's hair. He took a large gulp and sat down. Bending his pipe into a square shape, he said menacingly, "It's not over yet, young Amerika…"
America shrugged. He was wearing his Superman boxer shorts and a clean white vest, he was invulnerable.
"A ransom note… you know what? You are right, Finland," England said. "France, make a note."
Francis took a big gulp of wine and wrote something in his notebook.
Lily, who was sat next to him, blushed bright pink, stood up and hurried out.
America suddenly smacked his forehead and grabbed hold of England and pulled him out of the room, "Dude… I remembered something…"
"Alfred… I'm busy trying to solve a crime!"
"Yes but…"
"Listen, it can wait!"
"But dude… that cellar down in the pantry. We were going to check it out…"
"Ah yes, you are right!"
"I am?"
"Yes, Alfred. But we need a torch and possibly some weapons…"
But America was already halfway up the stairs. "Switzy dude left his rifle and I think I have a torch in my suitcase!" he yelled.
"Alfred!" England ran after him. "Don't go off on your own!" He panted as he caught up with him.
"Why not? I'm old enough now!"
"No, I mean if Nations are being kidnapped or worse…"
"You mean I could be kidnapped?" America looked wide-eyed.
"I think whoever it is, is taking the stronger nations…"
America considered this as he picked up Switzerland's rifle. He snapped it open, checked for bullets and snapped it shut again. "I ain't going down without one helluva fight!" he said, heroically. He slung the rifle over his shoulder. But unfortunately, he'd forgotten to put the safety on as the rifle went off and a bullet hit the ceiling.
"Bloody idiot! Put that thing down!" England yelled.
Russia and Denmark were standing at the bottom of the stairs, "Did someone get shot? What's happening?" they both shouted.
"Is that bruder's rifle? He's not going to be very happy…" Lily called up.
England shook his head, "See!" and then called down, "It's alright!"
America put the safety catch on, put a cigarette in his mouth (unlit) and put the rifle back over his shoulder. "I got this covered!" he said and headed to his own room.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to put my light sabre back. Shit is going down!" America said. It was unclear whether he meant that it was becoming too serious for a light sabre or whether he just no longer needed his light sabre. He also didn't explain what 'shit' was 'going down' or where.
England sighed. "You look utterly ridiculous. You're not in a bloody movie. You're Bill Willis in Try Hard or whatever it is."
America ignored him and rummaged through his Disney suitcase. He carefully put his light sabre back amongst Marvel boxer shorts and a Stars and Stripes flag.
"We could have used the light sabre as a torch," England said, watching him.
A battered parchment tied with ribbon was flung out. England scooped it up out of interest. "What's this?"
"Dunno. It was in my sock drawer and I threw it in," Alfred replied, finally holding up a Winnie the Pooh torch.
England was dumbfounded. Not at the torch. He'd seen that before. At conference hotels, America often made a 'duvet tent' and read his comics by torchlight. It was the parchment that made England's eyes widen. "How long have you had this?"
"I bought it at New York's Disney store a few years ago!"
England stared at him, "No, you big idiot! I mean this!" he waved the parchment around.
"Oh that! I dunno." America scratched his blond head.
"Is it what I think it is?"
"What do you think it is?"
"It's… it's… the Declaration of Independence! Oh my God! This is the original?"
"What? Oh yeah… Jefferson drafted it and wanted me to have a look…"
"… And?"
"And what?"
"Oh yeah… I thought it looked okay."
"Okay? You thought it looked 'okay'?" England was, for once, speechless.
"I guess I forgot it was there. I've wondered where it was. I was supposed to give it him back."
"This is priceless… it could be worth millions…"
"Nah, doubt it. It's just a scrap of paper. I thought it was a shopping list."
England had an urge to smack him over the head.
"Right come on, Britain, let's do this!"
"Wait!" England gave America the parchment back and watched with some disapproval as America threw it into his suitcase. "That piece of paper you just threw in there is utterly priceless! It should be in a museum," he told America.
America shrugged. "Boring."
"Anyway, just wait up. I have a cunning plan… I just need to have a chat with Tinkerbell…"
"Nobody believes your stuff about fairies and pirates, Artie."
"I don't care."
"They all think you're a bit mad."
"I'm not interested…"
"I told them that you're often just drunk."
"I don't get drunk!"
"Actually, Artie. You kinda do. You were so drunk at Christmas you fell in the fish pond and thought you were in the bath. My fish never survived all those bath bombs. And the Prez said that you weren't allowed to spend Christmas with me again."
"You don't have to live in the White House basement, Alfred. I've told you. You have a perfectly nice residence in New York."
"The Big Apple's okay, but I like my Capital, and the Prez is cool."
This conversation was taking place as they walked back down the stairs.
"Your Prez is…" But England didn't get to finish his opinion of the US President. "Ah Tinkerbell, I need your help!" he said suddenly.
America shook his head, twirling a finger at his head, indicating that the British Nation was unhinged and headed back to the kitchen. He was hungry and needed a hamburger before he was going to 'kick ass'.
England hurried down the stairs and huddled into a corner next to an umbrella stand, jumping a little when the handle of an umbrella poked him in the bottom. (He almost yelled out 'France, you pervert!')
He looked around to make sure nobody was around and then whispered, "Tinkerbell, I need you to be my spy…Not you, Captain Hook, you're too loud and if I'm not mistaken, you're also very very drunk. Not you either Flying Mint Bunny. I think this mission is too rough for you. I think it would be too upsetting." Then England seemed to argue with fresh air in front of him, "Yes but Tinks has had Special Ops training. She knows what she's doing and she's done this stuff before in the War."
In the kitchen, America fried a hamburger, flipping it expertly and adding onions, humming happily to himself.
Spain was still in a vegetative state. Romano seemed weirdly cheerful about this and kept poking him experimentally.
Hamish snored fitfully, the dog on his lap glared at them.
England re-entered the kitchen, looking inordinately pleased with himself.
Denmark grinned at him.
Russia growled.
England stepped up to America, "Right Alfred. We'll go in a minute and check on the you-know-what."
"What?"
"That what we were talking about," England said and winked.
"Is there something wrong with your eye?" America asked, totally oblivious.
"The secret door…"
"Oh yeah! That secret door in the pantry!" America half yelled.
Denmark and Russia looked up.
France sighed dramatically.
"Secret door?"
"Yes there's one in the pantry, it goes down to some cellar or something," America said and flipped his burger onto a bun.
England sighed. Bloody boy - he couldn't keep anything quiet if his life depended on it.
"We should explore it and see if we can find the bodies," Russia said, standing up.
"You never told me where you were when Spain was hit over the head," England said to Russia, keeping his voice quiet and calm.
"Nyet, I didn't." Russia said, looking back at England as if that was the end of the matter.
"I'll find out, one way or another," England muttered to himself. This was highly suspicious, he thought.
"Wut?" Russia asked.
"Oh nothing…" England said, smiling at the Russian. He rubbed his hands. Oh yes, he would find out eventually, he thought. He could see his little 'spy' now, invisible to all, perched on Russia's shoulder.
"Right, let's do this. Alfred - get that burger eaten. Russia - I suppose you can come as well. Finland - are you going to help? Denmark?" England began.
Nobody seemed to be listening. Apart from Russia who stood in front of him, twirling a lead pipe and smiling at him.
Alfred was munching his burger and moaning that there were no 'fries'.
France was worse than useless and seemed to think that drinking half a bottle of Beaujolais would make the whole thing okay.
"If I drink all zis wine, everyzing will be fine, non?"
"Non, it will not," England said. "Honestly, anyone?" England sounded desperate, even to his own ears. He really didn't want to go down those cellar steps alone with Russia. "For glory and freedom?" he ventured, appealing to America. "In the name of Odin and those other Viking gods… like erm Ikea…" he said, trying to appeal to Finland and Denmark.
Denmark stood up, "I'm with you, little dude. I don't have my axe but I got my Viking courage and I want to find my mate Gilbert."
"Hold on, dude! Just gotta finish my burger and then I'm on my way with Switzy's rifles."
Finland also stood up, "I'm with you, Mr England. This has to stop."
"I think I'll stay here with Antonio…" Romano said nodding at Spain. He actually looked a little sad and it was unusual to hear him call Spain by his human name.
"I'll stay here with my fratello and Big Brother Spain… we should look after each other. Just in case…" Italy said, already cutting up a white tablecloth and tying it to a stick…
"Right… for King and Country and all that…" England declared and opened the pantry door.
He found himself quickly scrunched up against a wall, as Russia, Denmark and America squashed in with him. The latter alarmingly, was holding two rifles. Finland, probably the only sane person left in the house (apart from himself and Austria - who was useless and playing the bloody piano now and Lily of course) stood outside the door.
"Erm… Mr England? I think this is a bad idea…" Finland ventured.
"Yer think?" England spluttered, trying to breathe.
"Get your fat butt out of my way," Denmark said.
"I am not fat, I am big-boned," Russia told Denmark, his purple aura pulsing around him.
"I was talking to Alfie," Denmark said hurriedly as Russia glared at him, raising his pipe above his head.
England was elbowed in the face by Russia.
"Men! Can we just…" England began.
"Hey! I call them 'men'!" America mumbled.
"Are you still bloody eating?" England said, appalled. Or to be correct, muffled as Russia leaned in way too close to him.
"Yep, I think I lost some of my burger though…" America said sadly, looking down at the floor.
Denmark tried to step back away from Russia and there was a squelch, "Ah man! I stood on your burger!" he said.
America's usually happy grin turned to a frown, "Oh no!"
"Idiot! Alfred, never mind that, do you have that torch?" England asked, exasperated.
"Yes…" America nodded.
"Well?"
"Oh yeah…" America stepped back out into the kitchen, picked up the Winnie the Pooh torch and went back inside. "Do we need my torch? I mean Russkie dude is glowing… wow… that's weird. Is it a Russian thing?"
"Nyet. It is a demon thing," Russia told him, glowering.
America looked up at the big Russian and then handed him a cookie.
"Can we just get on, please?" England said, as if they were late for a bus.
"I'm ready, let's do this!" Denmark said, rolling his shoulders as if going into a fight.
England nodded, "America, switch on the torch!"
"Okay dokay," America squeezed past Russia.
The cellar door creaked open with a horrid screech.
"Sounds like your back in a morning, Britain," America said.
England ignored him. The cellar steps seemed to stretch down endlessly into blackness. Black like a….
"…Grave…" Russia whispered behind him.
England almost leapt out of his skin.
"Ah well, let's go!" Russia took the torch out of America's hand, began humming as he ate the cookie America had given him and descended the steps as if he were off for a stroll.
"Hey! He took my torch!" America yelled and took off after him.
"I don't need a torch," Russia said petulantly as he reached the bottom of the steps. He gave the torch back to America. "I like the bear on it though. I saw a bear earlier today…" he continued telling them as England and Denmark joined him at the bottom of the steps.
England ignored him. Russia's flights of fancy when drunk were legendary. Ivan the Terrible at world conferences? Really? Arthur was more concerned at the state of the cellar steps. He and Denmark had clung to the bannister as they'd descended and several time they'd slipped.
"Hey Hamish! You need to sort out these steps, someone could get hurt!" he called up. "Very slippery. Must be damp…" he said to himself.
Finland appeared at the top of the steps though and frowned at them. "Have you found anything yet?"
"Only more stupid," England muttered. He shone the torch up the steps at Finland and realised with horror just why the cellar steps were so 'slippery'. He gasped. The steps were streaked red. He hurriedly swung the torch back and it lit up Russia under his chin making the Russian look more demonic than usual.
Russia grinned at him.
America and Denmark were utterly oblivious and seemed to be comparing biceps.
"I work out! I work out more than you!"
"Changing channels on the remote is not working out, Den!"
"I go to the gym! What's that kid Sealand been saying?"
"You've let yourself go, man!"
England shook his head. Bloody morons. He ventured down a cold dark, stone-walled corridor and felt Russia following him very close behind. That was okay though wasn't it? Tinkerbell was close and even if he didn't have his wand, Tinkerbell had hers. He stopped abruptly and Russia ran into his back almost shoving him over.
England bent down, something had caught his eye…
"Hey that's a…" he began to say. He felt a cold hand grab his arm, the torch went out and there was pitch blackness.
Russia said to him, triumphantly, "I've got you!"
And then the screaming started…
**To Be Continued ***
