The Good Son
Part Seven


Canada could see a window from where he was chained to a pipe leading deep into the ground. He'd tried to break both chains and pipe earlier, but his attempts had failed - only leaving him even more fatigued and in pain than before. He'd dozed once or twice, despite the hard concrete under him, but he felt no more rested for it. A lack of consciousness was a very different thing than actual sleep. He had no idea how long he'd truly been unconscious to begin with. If the daylight he'd awakened to, and was now fading, was the day after he'd been attacked or a few days afterwards. Had anyone even noticed he was missing yet? The thought that they might not have was depressing, but possible. With his failure to rescue himself so far, that did nothing to brighten his aspect of the future, or his general mood.

The broken lamp and chair from his hotel room was on the floor - chunks of glass and wood. He had the absurd thought that the hotel might charge him for the broken items, before deciding it was the least of his concerns. He frowned at the pile, wondering if the solution to his escape lay somewhere in it. Maybe with a nail he could pick the lock to his chains? It seemed unlikely, but possible. They were out of reach of his hands, so he spent several long minutes trying to reach them with his feet, getting little but aching muscles for the effort.

Night had fallen completely, filling the room with almost complete darkness, only the scant light from the window providing any illumination. And even that was little more than a sliver of grey in black. He felt exhausted, every muscle aching - the pain in his head reminding him that there was probably still glass shards embedded inside of it. He found himself thinking how England had been known for being able to escape any cell during the great wars, and wondering why he'd never asked his ex-caretaker to teach him some of his techniques. He could sure have used them now.

England. He felt a chill run down his spine. Hong Kong was obsessed with him. That much he'd gotten from their conversation before the smaller nation had pretty much handed him his ass. And damn, when - not if, when - he got out of this, America was never going to let him live that one down. The blood loss was probably affecting his thinking, his thoughts were getting a little jumbled. He was surprised Hong Kong hadn't attacked America first, as he'd always seemed to have England's favor. Maybe he knew he didn't stand a chance against the other's strength? Or was all this part of some twisted plan only Hong Kong understood?

Someone needed to warn England and the other ex-colonies, and as he was the only one awake who knew what was going on, that someone was him. Taking a deep breath, he renewed his efforts to reach the broken items on the floor.


China pulled a white pillow in the shape of a cat face over his head when his phone rang. He didn't care who it was, they could leave a message. Someone picked up the call, and he gave a contented sigh before he realized two things. One, nobody should have been there to pick up the call. Two, that wasn't his ringtone.

"Germany, is something wrong? It's rather early."

England's voice. China's confusion slid away. Of course, the disappearance of Canada - and the quiet nation's possible involvement in the attacks - had upset England. After a few quiet words in the conference center, he'd brought the other nation back to his hotel room. They'd had tea and simply reminisced about past times with their ex-colonies. Family. That was something neither could fault each other on. Or perhaps, in the end, it was both of their greatest faults.

"You mean another nation was-? A human, I see. Any idea what happened? Was it a break in?"

China frowned at that. He forced himself to get up, setting the cat pillow back on the bed and heading to the bedroom door. England had slept on the couch in the entrance room.

"No signs of a break in? Does the building have security cameras? Yes, I understand. I would like it if you kept me informed. Thank-you." England hung up, staring off into space for a moment.

"What did Germany want, aru?"

England stiffened at his voice, the only outward sign of the fact he'd startled him. He glanced over at the other nations and sighed. "There won't be a meeting today, the conference is on hold. A security guard at the conference center was found dead this morning."

China frowned, thoughtful. "And there is a connection between that and the attacks, aru?"

"Germany isn't ruling anything out right now. Everything is suspect."

"Everything and everyone, aru."

"As you say."

"what will you do instead, aru?"

"I think I'll visit the others at the hospital. Spend the day with them. Maybe there's been some improvement."

"It will be good for you, aru. If you need to talk again-" His cellphone rang, a childlike tune that sang through the room.

"That will probably be Germany telling you the conference is canceled." England noted. "I best be on my way."

China picked up the phone. "Germany, one moment aru." He covered the mouthpiece. "En-"

"Thank-you." The bow was formal, but the gratitude in his eyes was warmer.

"Mei Guanxi." China murmured, smiling slightly as England exited. Remembering his phone he turned back to it. "Aiyah, Germany, it's early, aru!" He whined purposefully. The younger ones would worry if whining made them sound childish. But you were only young once, and he'd stopped being young a few millennia ago. whining without caring if he was called childish wasn't just a privilege. It was his right.


England had noted attempts by hospitals to not be so stark as they'd once been. Additions of colored drapes in doorways and windows; couches where there'd once been hard chairs; pictures on the walls. Attempts to make them seem more home-like for those staying in them for longer periods of time. He wondered if it actually worked for their people, because it never worked for him. The touches just seemed even more alien and out of place in the cold halls and white washed rooms. Attempting and failing to hide that it was a place filled with desperation and death more often than hope and life.

Finland and Sweden were with Sealand still. The sea fort looked no better, but he also looked no worse. Small comforts. Seychelles looked as though she was sleeping, no physical injuries to show for her ongoing battle. Just the slightly erratic heartbeat on the monitor. He sat with her a short time. He'd made a copy of his notes from the meeting for her the first day she'd been unconscious. But there'd been no notes to take from the previous days meeting. The usual agenda had been thrown aside. Replaced by escalating arguments over the attacks and the prospect that Canada had orchestrated them.

"Non changement?"

"None." England would normally have bitten back at France that if he wanted an answer he could speak english to him. He wasn't certain if he was just too tired, or was just feeling sympathetic. Seychelles had been the other european nation's colony too. He seemed to be feeling a good deal of empathy with old enemies about that lately. It was getting eerie.

"Les autres?"

"Sealand's the same. I'm checking on Australia next."

"Of Canada, there has been no news."

"So I've heard."

"Do you believe it?"

"I don't know what to believe right now."

"It seemed almost...too perfect. Everything in plain sight." France moved forward to lean against the wall by Seychelles's bedside.

"The thought had crossed my mind." England admitted. "But we did barge in. Perhaps he'd planned on hiding it, and we got there first."

For a long minute there was only the beeping from Seychelles's monitor.

"Je ne le crois pas."

"Then you think he's become a victim now as well?" England kept his eyes on Seychelles's face. "Would you really prefer that?"

"That is a question I am not sure I know the answer to."

"Neither do I." England pushed off the chair and headed for the door. "You're still an annoying, perverted frog, by the way." The insult had little bite to it.

"And you are still an uncouth cretin." France offered in return, both of them finding some refuge in the exchange of insults. Even half-hearted as it was.

England let the colored curtain fall against the white wall again as he exited the room.

To Be Continued...


I think my fic just had a FRUK moment, and I can't explain that. Because I don't even ship them. I also didn't translate France's French, but what he says is pretty easy to guess, and it was all google translated anyhow because I don't speak French.

Canada is alive! (C'mon, you guys really thought I'd kill him? I'm not that mean yet!) But will he be able to escape and warn the others? What about the death of the security guard - will Germany's investigation into it lead them to Hong Kong? We're reaching the climax, so please keep reading!