There were multiple words to describe Canada's situation. "Suckish" was one of them. "Terrifying" , "Confusing" , and "Stupid" were others.

Canada was in Germany's house, dressed as America and tied to a chair. The world- or rather, the room he was being held in- was a fuzzy mess to the poor Canadian. His glasses had been destroyed earlier. His head still hurt from his previous collision with the wall, and his arms and chest ached from the tight ropes bounding Canada to the stupid chair.

Delicious smells of garlic and pasta sauce flooded the house. Italy had come over and forced Germany into having dinner with him. As much as Canada hated to admit it, he was actually pretty thankful that Italy had interrupted... Otherwise, Canada wasn't sure what condition he would be in right now.

It wasn't that Canada was afraid of Germany. "Afraid" wasn't the right word. It was just common sense among the nations that Germany was capable of horrible, horrible things… And Canada knew that all too well. Maybe it was a fear of the unknown that ate away at his already rattled nerves. It made him more anxious every second.

He wasn't sure what he could do… he was just sitting the middle of an almost empty room… waiting for Germany to return. It was almost awkward. Canada was powerless in the situation, and he hated it. Not that I had much power to begin with…. A small, quiet voice in the back of Canada's head whispered. He wanted to deny it with every fiber of his being but... realistically... he couldn't. He didn't have the power to deny his brother a stupid bet. He didn't have the power to overcome Germany… Hell, he didn't even try to defend himself against Germany. I just ran like a coward... Canada couldn't even break the ropes confining him now. Maybe it was better to just…give up.

His stomach dropped in a guilty whirl and his heart fluttered with stubborn indignation. How could he ever think that?

America would never give up.

America would never have been captured.

Ignoring his inner doubt, Canada smirked a little as he imagined the look on America's face at the words 'give up'. He was almost certain that the words weren't in his brother's vocabulary. But Canada's face soon fell back to a somber frown as he remembered the huge responsibility on his shoulders. He held the reputation and ultimately the fate of the United States of America in his hands… it was a lot to bear. His mind quickly flicked to thinking about his brother as a distraction. What was America doing now?...Has he even noticed that I've gone missing?

Canada shook his head and sighed. He had been held prisoner for too long. All these negative thoughts and emotions where clogging his mind. Of course none of that was true!... Or was it? Sure, America was forgetful sometimes... but then again, lots of countries are forgetful when it comes to me... Canada had to focus on something else before he lost his mind completely.

The optimistic word "escape" came to mind in an instant. He looked down at the rope confining him, and he could kinda-sorta see it. As far as Canada could tell, it looked like normal rope.
He squirmed a bit, but the ropes didn't budge.

What am I doing?

Canada didn't want to answer his own question (it was rhetorical anyway). He only continued to struggle with his confinements. He began thrashing violently in stubborn desperation, but the only thing he gained from that was an aching sting in his arms.

It's pointless… His doubt hissed.

He refused to acknowledge it. He continued to flail and struggle as quietly as he could so Germany wouldn't hear.

"I... I can do this..." Canada muttered to himself, even though he didn't believe it. As his struggle slowly died, a helpless feeling was sinking in. "I... I can..." Canada's already soft voice fell silent. ….I can't. And what would my brother say aboot that?

Canada was tired...tired from the lost effort, from the stress of the day, from the emotions that had been badgering him nonstop for the last few hours.

"But I can't rest now..." He mumbled to himself. Who else was there to mumble to?

Resting now would only be another sign of weakness, something I don't need... and what if Germany was to walk in while Canada was defenselessly asleep? Maybe he'd take pity. The doubtful voice whispered with a sarcastic edge.

"No no, no sleeping." Canada blinked his eyes a couple times experimentally; to see if that would make the sleep go away. It didn't.

He cautiously closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was just relaxing. He was just going to clear is head for a few minutes. He slowly inhaled, and sloooowly exhaled. He tried to clear his mind and focus on his breathing. In, out, in, out... he took one deep breath after another... after another... after another... until the Canadian was fast asleep.

"I'mmmm stronger than yoooou are!" The familiar high-pitched voice rang through Canada's little ears in a harsh and taunting tone.

A young Canadian felt his cheeks flush as he stomped his foot. "I am just as strong as you are, Alfred!"

The blond British colony rolled his bright blue eyes. "Yeah right! Can you lift a buffalo?"

Canada blinked once. "...W-Well..." He could lift Kumajiro...Sorta... though most of the time the polar bear preferred to walk as opposed to being dragged. "I can carry bear..."

Alfred smirked and leaned in towards his brother Matthew. They couldn't have been older than six in human years. "Nuh-uh!"

Young Matthew felt hot tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't help it. "Ya-huh! I'm strong!"

"Not as strong as me~" America taunted relentlessly.

"I-I am too!" Canada didn't want to cry... he really didn't...

"I'm stronger than yoooou are! I'm stronger than yoooou are!" America began prancing around his brother, making faces and singing his annoying song. "I'm stronger than yooou are! I'm stronger than yooooou-"

"Brother, stop it!" Canada finally couldn't take it anymore. He ran off wailing, not even bothering to wipe the tears out of his eyes. He didn't know where he was going but he didn't care- not until he was suddenly yanked into the air and embraced into a hug.

"Shhh-sh-sh, lad! What's gotten into you?" The deep, soft British accent had a comforting ring to it, but it didn't stop the tears. Canada buried his face into England's shoulder.

"B-B-brother... e-e-est si... méchant ...avec-c-c...m-moi!" England could make out just enough of what the sniveling little boy was saying to know that it wasn't English. He placed his colony gently on the floor and got down on his knees so he could look Canada in the eyes.

"Matthew, you aren't with Francis anymore. Can you repeat that in English please?" For a second, it looked like the little colony was going to cry harder, but he just sniffed and mumbled "Alfred..."

Britain let out an exasperated sigh and called Alfred over. The colony came running over with a smile before he saw his brother crying... that smile quickly vanished at the prospect of trouble.

"What did you do?" England's voice lacked its usual gentle tone that he used with the boy.

Alfred put his hands behind his back and kicked at the ground. "Nothin'..."

England wasn't buying it.

"Y-you called me w-w-weak!" Matthew said, still crying.

"Nu-UH!" Alfred stopped kicking at the ground and look up defensively. "All I said was that you ain't as strong as me."

"Don't say 'ain't' Alfred, it's unbecoming. And why would you say such a thing to your brother?" England's voice had a growing edge to it.

Alfred cross his arms and let out a huff. "Because it's true."

Matthew let out a fresh batch of tears at his brothers stinging words. He was too strong! He was too!

England let out a quick, exasperated sigh. He scooped up both of the tiny colonies, one in each arm, and found a chair to sit down in.

"Now listen carefully." Britain said in a not-unfriendly tone. He gently shook the arm he held an indignant America in. "Both of you. You are both very young. What strength you have now may be gone in the future." He looked at Alfred, who refused to look up from his crossed arms. "Likewise, there is always room to improve and grow." He bounced Matthew a little, who at least had stopped crying.

It happened in an instant. The cozy childhood scene melted and gave way to dark, billowing smoke. It consumed his vision with an opaque blackness. Canada's lungs craved fresh air and his eyes watered. He could feel a familiar arm wrapped around his shoulder, but it lacked the protective warmth it had what seemed only seconds ago. The same British voice once full of sagacity was now whispering to Canada in a low malicious tone, like that of a con man.

"Help me, Matthew. Come help me burn it." The accented voice whispered softly. Canada cringed as he realized what was happening... It was that day. He never wanted to relive that day. He wanted to run from the British voice, from the smoke and from the memories, but he was paralyzed. "Come now Matthew, this was your idea, wasn't it? Help me burn it."

Canada tried to say something, anything, but his lung where on fire and filled with ash. He coughed and shook his head no.

"What? Are you worried for him, scared for him? He did the same to you, worse even. Alfred is a glutton and an ungrateful brat, Matthew. Now watch as we burn it, burn it to the ground. " The malevolent excitement in Arthur's voice was almost too much to handle.

Directly in front of Canada, golden flames erupted from the smoke. Vicious, greedy flames engulfed a once impressive house. There amongst the smoke and fire, in front of his burning White House, stood America.

Canada wanted to scream out to him, to cry, to make the flames go away, but he couldn't. He was powerless. And all he could was look into his brother's face. All he could see were sad blue eyes. Apologetic, mourning and betrayed. The blue eyes stood out against the licking flames, and soon they were all Canada could see, all he could feel.

As soon as the smoke arrived, it vanished. Canada's sense of regret and panic was replaced with a worried grievance. He was still staring into those blue eyes, but now they were full of pain and agony.

Canada jumped back to see America standing at his door step with a forced smile, his chest covered with blood.

"Hey," America sounded exhausted, but he made an attempt to cling to his happy demeanor. "I was wondering if we could just...chat?" Canada stood still, shocked. He couldn't help but gape at his fellow nation in concern. The closer Canada looked, the more he noticed scars and scabs. "I'm fine, Matt. Really...It's just Kansas... Kansas is bleeding..., and I can't really get it to stop. But it barely hurts."

Canada did the best thing he could think of and gave America a seat on the couch. He handed his brother a mug freshly brewed coffee, and even offered him some maple to put in it. He sat down next to America with his own mug and listened in concern.

The Civil War was anything but civil for America.

Alfred quietly and calmly began by explaining the political situation. He described it as if it was nothing, but Matthew could see the pain from the struggles hidden behind his eyes.

Canada listened.

America went on to discuss the battles, and his citizens. He also conveniently forgot to mention the pains from the fights and casualties, but his cuts and bruises confirmed that conflict was present.

Canada listened, noticing the lack of emotion in America's voice, watching those blue eyes water up. When America had finished speaking, he was shaking slightly and clearly upset. "They hate me..." He said with a small smirk that quickly vanished. "...I'm... I'm not sure what'll happen, Matt..."

"Alfred..." It was hard for Canada to hear his own voice. It was as if he was trying to understand someone from underwater. He kept his voice gentle and soft. "I know you..." Canada attempted to smile. "I know that you'll pull through. You always do."

America looked Canada in the eyes, then turned his head away. Without a hesitation, Canada pulled his brother into a comforting hug, and felt America's shaking arms return the gesture. Silent tears dampened Canada's shoulder as America's body trembled. The bond between the two as countries helped Canada and America to share their problems with each other; but the bond between the two as brothers helped Matthew and Alfred to survive through difficult times.

"Thank you." America managed to mumble into Canada's shoulder.

Even though Canada had heard him, he couldn't stop himself from saying "What?"

A young, child's voice replied with a defeated sigh. "I said... I said that I'm sorry. I made you cry. Hero's aren't s'possed to do that. "

Canada found himself looking up at his brother from the play room floor, back in England's house. He smiled and simply said, "That's okay."

Canada's eyes sprung open in a panic. Sleep? He wasn't supposed to be asleep! How long had he been asleep for? He couldn't sleep, he had escaping to do! Or... did he? Canada bit his lower lip in deep thought… And all he could think of was his brother, and how he needed to stay strong... for him.

Canada glared down at his sturdy confinements. They were just rope. He looked around once again in the hopes of finding a conveniently placed sharp-object, but he wasn't surprised when he didn't find one. Germany was too smart for that.

Canada kicked out his legs in frustration. What didn't the stupid hoser think of? He leaned back in exasperation- unfortunately, he leaned back a tad too far. He let out a quick startled wail as he felt gravity pull him backwards, causing a loud CRASH! to echo in the empty room.

"MAPLESHIT!" Canada hissed. Why was he such an idiot? Hopefully that wasn't audible over Italian-ness. Canada was on his back, legs in the air, and still tied to the goddamn chair! Canada was completely immobilized on the floor and utterly screwed. Now all he could do was wait for Germany to come find him and... Do something. Canada couldn't fathom what that would be.

All hopes of escape were gone, just like that. Canada began to tremble- but it wasn't a tremble out of fear. No... Oooh no. It was a rage, a burning passion that filled the Canadian. He could stand up to anything Germany would do to him... He would stand up! And he would do it in America's name. He knew Alfred would to the same for him. Canada would face Germany with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Now... all he had to do was wait.

There was something about the hopeless predicament that just made him smirk. Maybe it was the ridiculous position he was in. Maybe it was irony, the god damn irony of his situation. There was nothing Matthew Willams could do but wait for Germany to find him… and honestly, it made him laugh. Just a little.

Canada strained his ears and ignored the way his heart leapt at every tiny sound. Any second now, he would hear the heavy, serious march of Germany come down the hall way... and that's when he would know to brace himself.

He caught his breath when he finally heard something that resembled footsteps. They were soft, padding noises with clicks against wooden floors. He squinted as he tried to imagine in his mind's eye what would make a noise like that.

As the sound grew closer and louder, Canada recognized the clicks. The sound was claws against wood. He let out small sigh of relief. The sound was probably just one of Germany's dogs...

Canada waited for the footsteps to continue down the hall, but they didn't. There was a series of sniffing and snuffling right outside of the room. Canada tried to get a view of the door, (even if it would be a fuzzy one) but he couldn't. The sniffing stopped, and was replaced with a scratching. Canada ignored the strong urge to let out an irritated sigh... why couldn't it go just away?

It was just a polite scratch to open the door at first. Canada tried to be as quiet as possible in hopes that it would leave. There was then a second scratch, impatient compared to the first. Canada heard a sigh of some sorts...He was just about to place where he had heard that sigh before when the sound of a jiggling doorknob made him jump. Had Germany noticed his dog by the door?

Canada clenched his fists as he waited for the door to open... but it didn't. Not right away. From the sounds of scratching and jiggling coming from the door, Canada realized that it was the dog trying to open the door... Not Germany.

Canada squirmed nervously. That had to be one big dog...

Finally, there was a click and the door swung open with a tiny creak. He kept as still as possible, not quite sure what to do... not that he could do much of anything else.

Canada heard the soft clicking footsteps approach in him where he was... if anything, they sounded exhausted.

Canada saw a fuzzy white head hover above his, and he swore he was hallucinating. There, glaring down at him with two dark fuzzy circles was . He pawed at Canada's face with an irritated flair.

"Where the hell have you been? Feed me, damn it."

A/N

I LIVE! I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

*HI everyone! I am SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SOOOOOOOOO SOORY! School and Life and all that stuff got in the way... but most of all? When I was writing this, I was in a MAJOR UBER AWFUL writers block. But I'm back now! With a huge chapter! And I swear that I WILL finish this story.

*This chapter... this chapter...ugh. What can I say about it? There's a reason it took TWO MONTHS to write! This chapter is lacking in humor, and it's full of poorly written Canadian angst. I feel like it doesn't do exactly what I want it to do...but I can't stare at this stupid wall of text any longer. I wanted to share it with everyone really badly! So this is what you get. I hope it's not so bad.

*Did you like the ending? Did we see it coming? Kumihana to the rescue! Er, no, that's not right...Ku...Ka...Kimihana? Oh, whatever.

*And I really liked writing the dream. I had too much fun with it! I actually have some historicalish tidbits thrown in there with a healthy dose of fluff.

* Next chapter will come! Sooner or later. But I promise you, you'll see it.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU ALL SOOOO MUCH FOR READING, FAVORITING, SUBSCRIBING AND REVIEWING! You wouldn't be reading this right now if it wasn't for all of the feedback. YOU ALL ARE AWESOME!

Happy Reading!