Acknowledgements: Thank you to Blackdevil Nightheart, Mely-Val, IrishMaid, B-The-Geek, Pedro-IS-Madi12, Percabeth is Awsome, cullinane, Go LilixIcy, Missmanda, Einsam-Schatten,, Becky 999, Kate Marley, Typewriting Fangirl, fishstick1999, Envie Rouge, Laughinthefaceofdanger, Missflutterpie, abbydobbie, saraholly, Draskar, julyza, Deefangirl, Pandoala, Hintori-time, Senor Tree, Wandering Authoress for the reviews, PMs, faves and alerts and of course all my other readers. (If I've missed anyone please tell me.)
Chapter 9
At a school in Doverham...
"This teaching lark is brilliant, isn't it? I can't believe I'm being paid for this shit!" Gilbert said, waving his chalk about.
The children he was teaching didn't answer. They all just stared at each other in disbelief. Singing Prußenlied had been Prussia's idea of teaching German.
"Is it breaktime yet?" Prussia asked one of them.
"Erm well…"
"Ja! It is!" Prussia decided and then said, "We've been here hours." (It was actually just 9.15 am and Prussia had been 'teaching' - the term being loosely applied - just 15 minutes.)
"Get out, all of you!" he yelled and flung himself on his chair and stuck his feet up on the desk.
He considered going into the staffroom to cause havoc but decided against it. He wondered vaguely how Denmark was getting on.
In the sports hall
Denmark was getting on swimmingly, which was a strange analogy really as he'd told the children they were going to do a lesson on Vikings. This was one lesson the children had never experienced before. After a brief rant about the Kalmar Union (the children had all looked bewildered at this) and how 'brilliant' it was, he marched them in single file to the sports hall and told them to split into two teams.
By the time Prussia had slouched in to find him, there was one team on up-turned wooden gym benches using cricket bats and tennis racquets as oars as they 'rowed' along the sports hall floor (not literally). The other team had constructed a fortress out of gym mats and were yelling and throwing an assortment of balls at their classmates.
"It's brilliant isn't it?" Denmark told Prussia.
A child ran up to them, "How many prisoners do we take, Sir?"
"Take no prisoners!" Denmark yelled.
"What in the name of Frederick are you doing?" Prussia asked, his mouth open.
"Teaching."
"Nein! I mean, what are they doing?" Prussia was amazed. This was teaching?
"We are re-enacting the invasion of Lindisfarne!"
"What?"
"Lindisfarne. England. 793, man. You weren't there."
"Weren't they a bunch of monks?"
Denmark pretended not to hear him but wandered off to inspect one of the 'boats' and the fact that somebody had been knocked out by a stray tennis ball.
But they were rudely interrupted by a real teacher.
"What's going on here?" said a man in too short shorts and wearing a tracksuit top (Gilbert thought that no male person over the age of 14 should wear shorts unless they were on a beach, which they weren't).
"A PE lesson," Gilbert said and tutted. What an idiot… anyone could see it was a PE lesson…
"I'm the PE teacher around here," the man said.
Gilbert looked him up and down, "Is that why you're wearing shorts? Or are you just stupid and haven't realised this is England and it's pissing down outside?"
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"I'm the German teacher," Gilbert answered.
"Who's he?" the man pointed at Denmark.
Gilbert considered this, he could have said that 'he' was Denmark, the King of Northern Europe, a Nation who was over a 1000 years old, a Viking not to be messed with, the bane of Sweden's life, but instead he answered, "My mate."
"You're using my hall," the man said.
"Yeah," Gilbert answered. Honestly, this was getting boring now.
"I have a PE lesson in this hall," the man said.
Gilbert looked around the man and saw a group of children all stood shivering in their shorts and vests. "Is that why you've got a load of kids stood behind you in their underwear?" Gilbert said, raising an eyebrow. "Man, you're weird."
"I'm a PE teacher!" the PE teacher yelled.
"Yeah, that's what they all say…" Gilbert said to him, "Not my business, man."
"I am!" the man reiterated, getting more and more irate.
"Man, if you want to go around with kids in their underwear, that's no business of mine. I mean there are things we do in my country to men like you…"
"I'm a PE teacher…" the man yelled.
"Precisely," Gilbert said, utterly bored with the conversation by now and punched him out cold.
The children all cheered.
"Who was that?" Denmark asked, jogging up and grinning like a loon.
"Dunno, some weirdo… But I have some more pupils for you, Den."
"Awesome! Come in here, kids. You lot can be Swedes cos you're all littler than this lot," he said. (They were all year 7 pupils.)
"Sweden's bigger than you, dude," Prussia pointed out.
Denmark pretended not to hear him but instead bent down in a huddle with the new arrivals and 'explained' the PE lesson or 'battle plan'.
"I wonder if there's any way we can flood the hall so we've got a sea?" Denmark said, his eyes shining as the year 7 pupils charged, armed with torn up rubber matting, at the older pupils in the 'fortress'.
"This reminds me of Lord of the Flies…" Gilbert said.
"Sir? Can I go to the toilet?" a child asked, interrupting.
"No! Vikings don't use toilets!"
"That's gross," Gilbert said.
"But they're only upstairs. I'll be back for the invasion," the child said, crossing his legs.
"Go on then… wait what? Upstairs…" Denmark turned to Prussia, "Dude… I have a brilliant idea!"
"Is it wicked and sure to get us kicked out?"
"Ja!"
"Let's do it!"
Prussia and Denmark's very short but illustrious teaching careers were about to come to a spectacular halt.
Back at the hotel…
Katya was trying to get Italy out of the wedding dress.
"Just pull your head out, you silly Italian!" she shouted.
"Don't call my fratello stupid," Romano said.
They were in Romano and Feliciano's shared bedroom. The former was pulling on his brother's head while Katya pulled the dress.
"I'm never going to get out of this dress! What will Luddy say?" Italy whined.
"Germany's missing, so that's one problem we don't have," Katya said.
"Missing?" Italy burst into tears.
Romano shook his head and pulled his brother a little too hard and there was a loud riiiip…
"Oh no…" Katya said.
The dress had ripped from the neck down to the waist (almost down to the oil stain, Katya noted).
"We are dead," Romano said with a deep frown. He was already planning on a getaway.
Russia, usually not the brightest bulb in the pack, i.e. not the cleverest Nation (Germany, France, Estonia) but certainly not the stupidest (Spain, Italy, Greece) had finally realised they (meaning he and Scotland) were back in England. But he could not work out how. They had arrived back at the pub where they'd started and he stared at it. It was here where Arthur had given his most glorious speech and he wondered if his brain had finally cracked.
"Have we gone back in time?" he asked. "Like in that programme Doctor... thingy...?" he tried to think.
"England!" Scotland suddenly yelled making Russia jump and almost spilling his takeaway coffee.
"Dr England?" Russia asked. "I don't think that's right."
"No yer big eejit."
Russia winced at the word eejit - he didn't know what it meant but he didn't like it. He grabbed Scotland by the throat "Wut?" He growled.
Scotland struggled free. "We're in England!" He said coughing.
"How can we be? That ferry went to Calais."
"Yes but it was turned around."
"Unless it's a mirage!"
"No the ferry turned around." Scotland said again.
"Or France built all this to confuse us so we would think we were in England and go back on the ferry to England."
"We are in England!" Scotland shouted.
"But how?" Russia felt as if his head would explode.
"The ferry was turned round to come back to England last night. There was an announcement on the tannoy. Didn't you hear it?"
"Nyet," Russia growled. Russicat growled with him.
"Aw well. You were asleep," Scotland said. "It said that we were entitled to compensation and money back on our tickets."
Russia was still growling and planning a new rescue plan.
"Yer did get the money back didn't yer?" Scotland asked. After Austria and Switzerland, Scotland was easily the meanest Nation.
Russia didn't answer Scotland's question, "I think I know a person who will help us," he said, adamantly ignoring Scotland applying 'his' lipstick.
Over at the hotel…
"I'm sure that's Francis!" Spain was saying. He turned to Greece, who was sat next to him in the hotel bar, they watching the news. "I wonder why France is on the television?"
Greece frowned and shook his head.
"Will you shut up, Antonio! We can't hear ourselves think! We're trying to work out where the guys are!" Hungary told him from across the room.
"I think they got arrested," Spain said quietly.
But nobody was listening to him.
Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, Poland, Hungary, Belgium, Sealand, Sweden and Finland were all discussing the missing Nations.
"I bet they're all on a cargo boat to Peru," someone said.
"That was last year, when Alfie got so drunk that…" Hungary began.
"Francis hasn't been allowed in Peru since 1971…" Belgium mused.
"Oh yes… that time when he…" Hungary didn't finish the sentence because Finland caught her eye and nodded at Sealand, that such things shouldn't be discussed in front of children.
"I think that caused an international incident…" Estonia said.
"I'm amazed there wasn't a war over it," Poland said.
"Wait? What? Someone tell me!" this voice was Latvia's.
"You're too young to know, honey," Hungary said.
"I blame Uncle Den!" this was Sealand.
"Yes, we all do…" Finland said with a sigh.
"If Arthur isn't back soon, Belarus is going to notice," Hungary said confidently.
"And then England's a dead man," Poland said with relish.
"He will be anyway. I give him a week," Estonia said.
"That long?" Hungary said with surprise.
"What about Vanya? I'm really worried about him," Latvia cut in into the general conversation.
Someone laughed out loud.
"Oh honey, why should we worry about a 6 foot psycho who is as mad as a frog on a rocking horse?"
Latvia stomped out. She would have flounced out but her clothes were not conducive for flouncing. She wore baggy maternity trousers with a military jacket, army boots and was carrying a faucet pipe (it made her feel a little closer to Ivan, who she missed).
Nobody else seemed to miss Russia.
"Let's hope Braginski's on a cargo boat to Peru," Poland muttered and poured another cup of tea.
"Polska!" Lithuania said suddenly lifting his head.
"Anyone up for a bet on how long he'll last?" Estonia said, bringing out a book. "I'll give good odds…"
"Russia? In Peru? I don't know… he's quite good at just turning up and I reckon they'll be very quick at bringing him back."
"No, I mean England and Belarus," Estonia said. "How long will he survive? Three to one odds he dies in a week," Estonia added.
"That's awful!" Belgium said.
"Yes it is," Hungary said, "I give him two weeks. He's a fast runner and he might be so drunk in the first week that he doesn't say anything to upset her."
"Mr Estonia! I want to place a bet!" Sealand said with some relish.
"No you won't, you're too young!" Finland said.
Sweden muttered something.
"Oh okay… we'll put 40 kroner on England lasting a month…" Finland said.
Someone spluttered over this, "He'll be dead way before then!"
"You're forgetting that they've lived together for much longer than that," Lithuania said. "About 6 months, 2 weeks and 3 days…" he added and then dropped his head.
"Wow yes and he survived…" someone said.
Ukraine burst into the room. "The dress is ruined, the groom is gone and I have no idea what to do!" she blurted out, slumped down in a chair, took Poland's cup of tea off him, drained it in one go and threw her head back dramatically.
They all rushed round the table.
"Oh guys you're all so supportive," Ukraine began to say.
"50 pounds says he's dead as soon as he steps in that church," someone said unsupportively.
"He won't get to the church, Russia will get him first."
"Someone will have to step in and marry her," Lithuania said quietly.
Estonia threw a bread roll at him.
Poland wasn't listening, "Listen, honey," he said to Katya, "Let your Auntie Pol sort all this out."
"I'm older than you!" Katya exclaimed.
"Yes, honey… I didn't like to say it, but you really need to see someone about your whole look," Poland said.
Katya shook her head, "No, I mean why are you my auntie when I'm older than you?!"
"Let's go see this dress and sort it out. We can change the whole look, some sequins…" 'Auntie' Pol said.
"It already has enough sequins to sink the Bismark!" Hungary scoffed - whilst scoffing more toast.
"Talking of the Bismark…"
"Which we weren't, keep up…"
"Where is Germany?"
"The other side of the Channel, darling," Poland answered, pulling out his sewing kit.
But Germany was not on the other side of the Channel. The country was of course on the other side of the Channel, but the Nation himself was not.
Germany sat in the office he'd commandeered for himself at the German embassy in London. He had not slept all night, he was frazzled. He would have very much like to have laid his blond head on the desk and slept, but of course, he was Germany and he never ever slept with his head on a desk. Ever. He had paperwork to do. And he was going to finish it.
After being taken to a Police cell in Dover, he'd managed to get in touch with his Embassy, who'd been rather surprised by the fact that their Nation, who they thought was frankly boring, had been arrested. Until he'd explained to them that he'd been on a stag do with his fellow Nations. This also had surprised them - there were many at the Embassy who didn't think Germany had any friends or was invited anywhere.
Germany sighed, took a sip of tea, grimaced, thought about shouting outside to the Embassy staff to bring him a big pot of coffee, thought twice and settled down to do his paperwork.
He was rudely interrupted by a bang on the door - it sounded horribly like metal on wood. He frowned. Surely not? He was about to answer 'come in', when there was another bang and the wood actually began to splinter.
He jumped up to answer the door, but was too late as a large metal pipe appeared through a hole in the door and then the entire door exploded inward.
"Tea? Coffee? Biscuits? A kitkat?" came a Scottish voice.
Germany stood open-mouthed as the Nation he knew as Scotland came in, dressed in a lady's tweed suit (he wondered vaguely which lady), pushing a tea trolley.
"Why?" he managed to splutter.
Scotland looked him up and down, "You look like you need a nice cup of tea," he said and began administering said beverage from the tea urn.
"Why are you here?" Germany managed to say. (He didn't even want to think about why the Scotsman was dressed as a woman, he just assumed Scotland had finally surrendered to some latent passion for cross-dressing.)
"I'm a tea lady!" Scotland said, handing him a cup of tea. He then added, "We need your help."
"Oh nein, no… never… why me? Why should I?" Germany said, looking at his paperwork. He then said as he saw Scotland glaring at him, "Who is this 'we'?" he added with suspicion.
"Privet!" came a voice.
Germany slumped down and covered his face in despair.
Russia entered the room, stepping smartly over the door, Russi-cat jumped off his shoulder and leapt onto Germany's desk. "You're going to help us get Mr England back so he can marry my sestra."
Germany lifted his head, "Why should I?" he repeated, trying to ignore Scotland pouring another cup of tea, the ruined door and the large cat.
"Your paperwork will be destroyed," Russia said.
Russi-cat almost seemed to nod and then plonked itself down on the pile of papers with a horrid gleam in its eyes.
Next Chapter:
Prussia and Denmark try out another career
Germany has an awful day
PM's, reviews etc are welcome. Do I carry on? Is anyone reading?