xXEpilogueXx

A/n: Be warned. This is extremely short! I'm sorry, but this was the plan from the beginning :o I had this planned in my head when I wrote the first chapter, so I kinda knew what the last chapter would consist of when I first started the story. It was all in my head though, so I hope you like this wrap up :p It may not have come out as good as I had planned in my mind though. If you don't like it, then disregard it I suppose. Chapter 9 could also work as an ending, but I just really wanted to do this. Peace out!

England scowled as he entered the World Meeting, greeted by the usual chaos of hundreds of Nations thrown together in a conference hall. An arm was loosely draped around his shoulder, before it drew him close. England turned to the offending arm's owner, finding America standing there grinning stupidly.

"Dude, I was wondering when you were gonna show up! You havn't been to one of these in awhile, thought I would show you around a bit," he said, laughing as England shoved him away.

"I do not need a bloody reunion tour America. This whole ordeal is giving me a raging headache," he said, huffing in irritation.

America just chuckled and looped his arm around England's, causing the smaller man to blush.

"Let me go Alfred, before I get angry," he grumbled, though the American just pulled him forward.

"Hey everyone! Iggy's here!"

Choruses of greetings ensued, and several nations, including Italy, even rushed forward to hug England. It was actually... nice. It was overwhelming to have all of the whole-hearted greetings and hugs crowd him suddenly, but he couldn't help but smile as Germany stepped in to firmly shake his hand, nodding at him. Even Russia crushed him into a large bear hug, though that was a bit painful. Luckily, America had jabbed the large man in the ribs, and they had begun to shove each other back and forth, completely forgetting England after a moment.

The meeting went smoothly, each nation delivering their speech with enthusiasm. England smiled at France after the speech, refraining from calling him a 'frog.' England delivered his own speech, giving notes on how the riots in his cities had died down and that his alliance with America would remain in place. America had stood and rounded up an applause, and before England knew it everyone was clapping for him. He smiled as he walked out of the conference hall, ready for the much needed break.

"Hey Iggy, wanna hit the bar with me and the guys tonight?" America called to him from across the hall.

"Sure, I could use a drink. I'm going to get lunch before the meeting resumes," England said back, earning a wink and smile from America.

He walked down the hall, trying to decide where he would go out to eat. Preferably somewhere that served fish and chips, though he did feel in the mood for beef stew. Deciding to stop in the restroom before lunch, he turned at the sight of a sign leading to them. He took his time washing his hands, enjoying the hot water on his palms.

Suddenly, the water became cold. England cursed quietly and shut the water off, shivering as the restroom became very cold. Then, he smelled it. His heart began to race, and bile rose in his throat. He ran into the closest stall and heaved into the toilet, wiping his mouth and shaking. He had broken into a cold sweat, still smelling that awful odor. Death. Flashbacks entered his mind, images of his time in solitary confinement. He opened the door of the stall and saw it, all the color draining from his face.

"B-bloody hell... Zak? W-What are-"

"Arthur. It's been some time, hasn't it?"

Zak smiled, revealing his yellowed and uneven teeth. He wore rags, tattered and bloodied. He himself did not appear physically harmed, though there was an obscene amount of blood on him. It covered his face and chest, matted his long hair. He held a large machete in his right hand, fresh blood running down the length of the blade.

"You- you aren't real!"

"Arthur. I'm not a man to fuck with. Those idiots lost me while they transferred those prisoners."

His eyes went murky.

"You got out first. Abandoned me in that hell-hole. Left me in Section 4!" He screamed, blood spraying from his lips.

England shuddered.

"Who did you kill?" he asked.

"Kill? I destroyed. I maimed, tortured, and slaughtered that pervert. His accent was getting on my nerves," Zak said, scowling.

A cold, yet heavy feeling pooled in England's stomach. France. He had killed France.

"NO! You didn't, you didn't!" England screamed, charging forward.

Zak simply stepped out of the way, allowing England to fall forward. The floor was surprisingly soft.

…...

"Mr. Kirkland? Mr. Kirkland? He's not responding."

The voice was familiar. England blinked, staring up into grey eyes.

"Mr. Kirkland... Mr. Kirkland..."

He was grey. The entire room was grey. His British accent was dull.

"He's stable."

Was his name England? Was it Mr. Kirkland? Why did he feel so passive?

"Wrap his head. The stitches are secured."

The voices were hazy. Why? Where was he? The bandages felt strange on his head. His whole body felt heavy, and very exhausted. He shut his eyes. There was nothing to worry about anymore.

A/n again: :p not to bad? let me know... that is all.