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Folie à Plusiers
Neuf: Perdu et Trouvé, Partie Deux
Nine: Lost and Found, Part Two
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Her eyes widened in shock as she stared a the picture, disbelief plastering itself across her face.
"But, th-this is..."
"Shocking, isn't it?" Dr. Eticott asked, peering at her over the rim of his glasses.
"It doesn't even look like the same boy," she remarked, "It hardly looks like a boy at all."
It was true. The first picture that the psychiatrist had shown her was of a normal boy, in his late teens or early twenties, with chin-length blond hair that fell straight around his face, courageous green eyes on a boyish face. The second picture, however, was an entirely different person. That same blond hair was longer, and combed into place. The eyes were coy and mischievous, accentuated with black mascara. Pink nail polish painted the fingernails of the hand his head was resting on, matching with the corseted dress he was wearing.
"You can imagine his parent's concern at seeing their son changing into someone like that. It wasn't until after the cross-dressing began that they noticed the smaller things; speech changes, personality. And of course, the misconception of being a... Nation." the Doctor nodded to himself, looking back to the image on the computer screen.
"But none of the other patients experienced a gender identity crisis," she pointed out, "So-"
"I'm not sure it is one. From the reports I've been faxed, no one had ever indicated that this patient had ever believed himself to be female."
"Then..." she trailed off, "...Alright. Which one is this?" she asked, gesturing to the image.
Dr. Eticott's thin eyebrows furrowed, "Which one?"
"Where is he from? I was only wondering what this patient had begun referring to himself as."
"Ah. Well, Ms. Wilson, this is Feliks Łucasiewicz from Warsaw. He is patient 'Poland'. He won't be arriving until late tomorrow, so don't feel like there's too much pressure. Just make sure that the other patients know he's coming; we don't need any unsuspected outbursts." he said, exiting out of the pictures and shutting down the computer.
"Of course, Doctor. Oh, and just before I leave," she untucked her notes from under her arm, "The group of patients experienced a mass hallucination just earlier. I wrote down some notes that may be of use." she handed the sheet of paper to the Doctor, slipping out the door when he took it and began reading.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
America didn't like being left out of things. After all, he was the hero, wasn't he? And the hero should always be included in conversations! Or at least, that's what he liked to think. So when he noticed China, France, and England were having a heated conversation in the very back corner of the commons room, it was practically a second nature for him to grab his brother by the shoulder and drag him over to the other three Nations.
"Heyyyy guys!" he called as he approached, completely oblivious to England's sigh of exasperation, "What'cha doin'?"
"It's none of your business." England snorted, turning up his nose at the American.
"England, America and his...um, twin?" China thought for a minute, before correcting himself, "Brother, have as much right to listen as anyone else, aru. Fair treatment, aru."
"Oh, all right." the short blonde huffed, crossing his arm over his chest.
"S-so..." Canada began, looking up through his glasses, "What were you guys talking about?"
"Mon cher enfant, you youthful Nations needn't worry about what we think. We were simply discussing some rather... ah, 'ow do you say...troublesome issues?" France spoke, flinging his long hair over a shoulder.
"Well then, you should definitely tell me!" America protested, smiling widely, "I am the Hero, of course! I'll help you solve your problems!"
"Non, non Amérique! As I said, you don't need to-"
"Oh for fucks sake, if we've already decided to tell them, just go ahead and tell them! Don't beat around the bush, you bloody frog." England interrupted, not even bothering to look at the Frenchman.
"'Beat around the bush'? My my, Angleterre, you may prove to be more of a closet kink than Allemagne, non?" Francis winked, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. England visibly twitched. He gave an indignant squawk, screeching at France.
China, not wanting to listen to yet another argument between France and England, stepped in to fill their places, "Well, haven't you two noticed that nothing happening in the world seems to be affecting us, aru? Global warming, economic recession, wars...aru, but none of us have gotten so much as a cold or aches. I am correct, aru ka?"
"Well yeah, but Heroes don't get sic-" America began to exclaim, but was cut off by an elbow jabbing into his side.
"No, we haven't felt anything, sorry eh..." Canada finished for his brother, "What do you think that's about?"
"That's what we were talking about, aru. Well, at least, that's what we were trying to talk about, aru. But you know France and England; they're always at each other's throats for one reason or another, aru. Honestly, you westerners..." China sighed, staring in exasperation over his shoulder at the two aforementioned Nations, who were currently engaged in a verbal war. He was shocked at some of the unfamiliar curses that came flying out of their mouths.
"So..." America stuck his tongue out as he thought, "Does that mean that we ain't connected to our citizens anymore? I mean, that makes absolutely zero sense, y'know? And how the hell has any sort of order been kept without us around?"
"T-that's what I was wondering...I mean, it's not like it's impossible to run our countries without us, but there's never been a nationless country before, has there?" Canada asked, glancing worriedly from America to China, "And all the countries that've been dissolved, died off as a result. 'C-cause the only reason Prussia ever survived was because he became part of Germany..."
"And it's obvious to see that none of us are dead, aru." China pointed out, "Therefore, all of our homes are still standing, aru. The only question is, why? We all know that there is a recession occurring right now, and yet none of us are sick, aru."
"Maybe it's not a very big recession," America suggested, "I mean, I doubt we're ever going to have another one as bad as the Depression, and I'm the only one who's even in his own land. Maybe...oh, I dunno! This is too confusing!"
"What if..." Canada trailed off, "I mean, if you think about it, maybe the nurses and doctors here are ri-"
"Don't you dare say that, Mattie!" America shouted, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Of course we're Nations! I don't wanna hear any of that bullshit coming from ya. Don't let them trick you!"
"Yeah...bien sûr..."
"America's right, aru...amazingly...it wouldn't make any sense otherwise. We know who we are, we know who each other is, and besides, who else can have centuries worth of memories, aru?" China added, trying to reassure the younger Nation.
"Exactly! Don't let it get to you, Mattie! I'm the Hero; I'll protect you from the evil of those shrinks!" America proclaimed, wrapping his arms around Canada's waist and throwing the other blond over his shoulder.
"E-eh? A-Alfred, put me down, eh!" Canada's protests went unnoticed by the stronger sibling.
"Nuh-uh! Not until you stop being such a stick in the mud!" America laughed, spinning around in a circle.
"Eyaahhh!" Canada yelped as he was spun around, grabbing his glasses as they slid off of his nose, "Alfreeedddd, stooop!" It didn't stop the fact that he was beginning to laugh at his brother's antics.
"Say it, Matt!" America prompted, still spinning.
"O-okay, you win! You're the Hero, you'll protect me! Now put me DOWN, eh!" he pouted, pounding his fists lightly against America's back. America laughed.
"Damn straight!" he exclaimed, flipping Canada off of his shoulder, "Now, what are you?"
"Canada, eh..." the timid blonde replied, replacing his glasses on his face.
"And what am I?"
"The United States of America."
"And you know it! So stop being so quick to question yourself, got it?" America pressed, frowning childishly as he pulled Canada into a one-armed hug.
"Yeah." Canada nodded, smiling, "Thanks Al."
The heartwarming brotherly moment was broken, sadly, when England and France decided to rejoin the group. The two returnees looking a bit worse for wear, and obviously a bit flustered after bring told off by one of the nurses who had come to break up their argument.
"Wot in the 'ell's going on 'ere?" England asked, his cockney accent making itself prevalent to show his frustration.
"Nothing, Iggy! Just cheering up Canada here!" America grinned.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't call me 'Iggy'! Bloody hell America, I'll never be able to keep up with all these mickey names you come up with!" England griped, his eyebrows furrowing. Which did, indeed, make him look very intimidating. America just laughed it off and turned to France, who had begun talking.
"So, I am to assume that Chine has told you about our dilemma in full?" France asked, looking to Canada, who nodded.
"Yeah, he did."
"And I suppose there's nothing we can do about it, is there?" England asked, staring at everyone's troubled faces, "Not only are we away from our homes, but we're locked up in this loony bin. As far as I'm concerned, as long as nothing terrible has happened, we shouldn't worry too much about this. It'll only prove to be a distraction."
"How can you say that?" America interjected, blue eyes widening in shock, "England, this is huge! If we're not feeling anything, then it's pretty damn obvious that something's screwy!"
"And what, exactly, do you propose we do about it?"
"..." America looked down to study his shoes.
"That's what I thought." He nodded, "For now, let's keep this mum, got it? I'll ask Greece and Sweden about it a bit later, but I really don't think we need people like Italy and Romano worrying about this. If anything, they'd only make it worse."
As if on cue, a small scream came from across the room, and the one and only redhead Italian came tearing over toward the group, fleeing a frowning, very intimidating Sweden.
"I-Inghilterra! Help meeeee!" he cried pathetically, diving behind the short British man for cover. England kicked his foot at the Italian.
"Bloody hell, get off of the floor!" he griped, moving away from Italy, who whimpered. Sweden, obviously sensing that Italy was hiding from him, turned away and stalked over towards the farthest corner, settling himself down there.
"What're ya doing?" America asked, peering down at Italy.
"A-ahh, I was playing with Finland, but I think I stepped on his foot or something, 'cause he yelped and then Sweden got up and came over and he looked really mad and he's sooooooo scary!" Veneziano shot off his words rapid fire, pulling himself off of the ground and brushing off his pants.
"I don't think Sweden would hurt you, Italy..." Canada pointed out, looking at the man who was now sitting in a corner as Finland attempted to coax him out of it.
"Ve~...but he looks so mean! Almost as scary as Germany! And Germany can get reeeaaallllyyy scary when he's mad!" Italy protested.
Across the room, Sweden's aura of depression increased tenfold.
"That's not very nice! That's like saying that Russia's the sweetest person in the world just because he smiles friendly!" America exclaimed. The group shuddered in unison at the mention of their unstable 'ally'. Now that was one pile of crazy that they weren't missing at all.
"Yeah, but Sweden's just so...frowny!" Italy pouted, "He always looks mad! It's like he's staring at you and trying to figure out what way to eat you! He-" the Italian's continued list was cut off by a loud noise and a worried yell.
"Su-san!" Finland called from across the room as Sweden practically ran out of the door, his melancholy air following him out. The small Finn followed in close pursuit.
"Now lookit what you've done!" England sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Well, let's just hope that Finland manages to get him back inside, aru." China said. The other five Nations nodded in silent agreement.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
By the time Nurse Wilson had made her way back to the commons room, the atmosphere had certainly settled down a bit. Finland had managed to convince Sweden to rejoin the majority of the Nations after a few minutes of telling him that no one was really that scared of him, and that they all enjoyed his company (which, for the most part, is a lie). Greece and Romano were still talking in hushed whispers on the couch, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on those two; it was clear that they were up to no good, especially after the incident with Sadiq earlier. England and Canada had sat down to play a game of chess, while France animatedly told a story to America, who howled with laughter. China appeared to be practicing a form of Tai Chi, attempting to drown out the noise of his companions.
Italy was sitting in the middle of the floor, assembling a small army of origami cranes. Although, they really couldn't be identified as cranes, per se, as they were crudely made and rumpled up around the edges.
Feeling uneasy at the sight of Feliciano being alone (as the bubbly boy was so often around the others), she approached him. He had cranes of all sizes, and was organizing them into groups in a seemingly random order.
"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, careful not to startle him. He looked up at her with his doe eyes wide. He looked different; a little more somber than when she'd left the room.
"Japan used to teach me how to fold all kind of origami," he began, wearing a small smile, "But I don't think I'm very good at it. Look; they turn out all wrong."
"I think they look wonderful." she told him, picking up a small white crane. Its wings were a bit crumpled around the edges, but it was otherwise fine.
"Ve~, thank you." he replied, taking the crane out of her hand and setting it beside two others; a large yellow one with a broken tail and a smaller red one with its neck bent out of shape. "Japan told me that all the time too, but everyone knows he's just too polite to hurt anybody's feelings."
"So what's with all the birds?" she asked, gazing at the assembly of paper animals. Italy picked up the three he had grouped together and showed them to her, pointing at each one in turn.
"It's Germany, me, and Japan." he stated, as if that explained everything, "I miss them so much, but it's okay because I know they'll be here soon! Remember, Germany always helps me out when I'm in a pinch! We pinkie swore on it!" he held the yellow crane close to his chest.
"But you know, Germany might now show up for a long time." Nurse Wilson pointed out. Italy paused, unblinking, before his regular grin was back in place.
"It's okay. He won't leave me. I'm just weak li'l Italy!"
"You say it like that's a good thing." she frowned slightly.
"I've always been weak," Italy said, "If it really bothered me, I wouldn't be the way I am! That's why Germany and Japan are my best friends; because they don't think I'm a worthless person. No one else really likes me 'cause they think that I'm so useless and pathetic."
"That's not true, Italy," Nurse Wilson's frown deepened, "If no one else here liked you, then they would be very shallow people. You're very kind, and energetic, and happy. It doesn't matter if you're not as strong as some of the others. Besides, I'm sure that there must be some others who are weaker then you?"
"Well...I suppose maybe Liechtenstein, and Ethiopia..." he trailed off, unsure.
"There you go!" she put a hand on his shoulder, "Besides, from what you tell me of Germany, he wouldn't have you as his best friend if he didn't like you. So you should keep a smile on." she stood, smoothing out the creases in her scrub, "Don't worry. Whenever you're feeling lonely, just come talk to me or one of the other nurses; we'd love to help. It's why we're here."
She stood up and walked away, and Italy kept his gaze on her retreating back. She sure was nice, offering him words like that, but that was the problem; they were just words. He needed something more solid. More concrete. No one noticed, but lately he'd been always feeling lonely. He tore his eyes away from the white of Nurse Wilson's uniform to stare at Lovino on the couch by Greece. He was hurting, too. Oh, he might try to hide it, but Italy could tell. After all, they were the same Nation. It didn't matter how vehemently his brother denied his loneliness; it was there.
But neither of them were ready to crack just yet. Italy found safety through a happy mask, and Romano through a vile temper. Their walls were strong and well in place, and it was a race against time to see who would break first.
Italy had a feeling it would be him.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
The announcement was made during lunch, when all of the Nations, including the recently released Turkey, were gathered together. As usual, Nurse Wilson stood at the front of the room, her clipboard tucked away under her arm.
"Well, I'm sure that by now you all have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to say," she began, looking over the group, "So I figure I might as well just say it: The next patient will be arriving in the later parts of tomorrow. I assume you're all familiar with Feliks Łucasiewicz?" A few exasperated groans, facepalms, and an excited noise from Italy was her reply, "Good."
"Ve~! So Poland's coming?" Italy asked happily, pleased that one of his closer friends was finally on their way.
"Yes. I don't know all the details, but he'll definitely be here sometime after supper tomorrow."
Immediately chatter broke out among the patients, whether it was out of excitement or pure dread of what was to come the next day, it didn't matter. France and England began reminiscing about their attempts to get Poland to better his defenses before the war, while Italy tittered on gleefully about the time they had catapulted themselves into Spain's yard.
The only two who were off topic in the midst of the noise were Greece and Romano, who had instantly set about putting their first plan of action against Turkey into effect. The two brunets whispered hurriedly to each other, hunched over the table so that none of the nurses could see their mouths moving.
"You get the idea?" Romano whispered, shifting his eyes to watch the nurses that stood around the room; there was only two today, not including Ms. Wilson.
"Got it." Greece nodded, giving a pointed glare to Turkey, who was once again sitting at a separate table from the scheming Nations.
"Wonderful. Make a scene."
Slowly, Greece pushed himself up from the table, yawning. With all the grace of a drunken hippo, he dragged his feet over to the exit door, right by where Nurse Wilson was standing. He blinked a few times, green eyes clouded and hazy. The nurses noticed him, and made their way over, in case something was the matter.
"Gree-Heracles," Nurse Wilson corrected herself, eying the other Nurses around her, "Is something the matter?"
"The...matter?" Greece repeated, rolling the words over in his mouth like he wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to work, "No...in fact I think I-"
His sentence was cut off as he promptly fell to the ground, breathing deeply. Next, two things happened. One, the nurses gasped in surprise, all bending down to see if the man was alright. Second, the other Nations stood from their chairs, just as oblivious to what was going on.
"Whoa man, Greece, you okay?" America asked, all but leaping out of his chair as he ran to the side of his fallen friend.
"What the hell...?" England muttered, as he too stood. Soon, it was a chorus of scraping chairs and worried exclamations as all of the Nations rose from their seats to see what had happened. Even Turkey got up to look, which was exactly what Romano was waiting for.
"What happened?" he feigned shock, leaping over the chair next to Turkey, pulling his arms up to give himself better momentum and accidentally planting his elbow right in Turkey's uncovered face. The older Nation stumbled back with a shout as he clutched his bleeding nose, tripping over a conveniently placed chair and landing with an oof on the edge of a table, causing the entire thing to collapse, plates of food and drinks being launched into the air before landing (quite comically) right on his head.
"Aw, gorrammit!" Turkey swore, hand still cupped under his nose to catch the falling blood. The nurses attentions were immediately diverted from the motionless Greece to Turkey, the previous commotion preventing them from seeing Romano's well-executed assault.
"Mr. Sadiq, are you alright?" One of the nurses asked, offering down a hand to the fallen man, who took it with his non-bloody one.
"Yeah, m'fine...fecking hell was that all about?" Turkey asked no one in particular as he stood, taking a napkin the other nurse handed him and shoving the end up his nostrils. None of the nurses said anything, as neither of them were exactly sure what had happened. Eventually though, one of the nurses had offered to escort Turkey to wash the blood and food off of him and get a fresh set of clothes, and the atmosphere in the room settled back to normal.
"Oh, but what about..." Nurse Wilson trailed off, spinning around to the spot where Greece had fallen to find him...not there. Brows furrowing, she scanned the room, to find the lethargic man back in his chair beside Romano, as though nothing had happened. The only ghost of a foreign emotion that played on his face was the slightly self satisfied grin that tugged at his lips.
A suspicious frown finding its way onto her face, she suddenly had the inkling that this 'accident', hadn't been so much of an accident at all. But a notion was only a notion and, in the end, she had no proof. Nonetheless, a watchful eye she'd have to keep on those two...
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
"What was that all about?" Canada asked his brother, who was idly cleaning the lenses of his glasses.
"What was what about?" America fired back, only half paying attention. Canada snorted, reaching a hand out and giving America a light shove to get his attention, almost knocking the older sibling out of his recliner.
"That thing earlier today! Before lunch with England!" Canada persisted, legs folded beneath him on his chair, "When we were talking about you know what."
Currently the brothers were alone, curled up in armchairs, in the same little room Greece had confined himself to before Turkey's arrival. Lunch had already come to its finale, and supper had also come and gone. All of the other Nations were either in their rooms, or in the commons room, doing god knows what. There was no nurse actually inside the room with Canada and America, though one was likely right outside the door, ready to barge in at a moment's notice. The surveillance cameras positioned in the corners of the room worked just as well, they supposed.
"What're you taking about, Mattie?" America asked, placing his glasses back on his face. His clear blue eyes were cut across by his eyebrows as he gave the younger a questioning look.
Canada sighed, "You barely even tried to argue with him at all! Gave up, dare I say it. That's not the Alfred I know, so spill it; what's up, eh?"
America paused, scratching at his ear, "Nothing's up. Just didn't really feel like arguing, y'know?"
"That's bull, and you know it." Canada frowned, "So either you tell me what's up, or I tell Papa exactly what you did during that St. Pattie's party once they broke out the Guinness."
America paled, "O-oh man, you wouldn't!"
"I would."
"I...It's kinda awkward to talk about it, 'specially to my own bro. Not that I don't trust ya or anything, Mattie, it's just..." America gulped, looking pointedly away from his brother.
"Just what?" Canada pressed, eager to know what was pressing on America's mind.
"I..." America was beginning to turn red around the ears.
"You..?"
"I think I like him, Matt."
Now it was Canada's turn to be confused, and a fair bit shocked. America...had a crush on England? Since when? More importantly, why hadn't he noticed this?
"You like...England?" he exclaimed incredulously, blinking a few times.
"Yes! Let the whole freakin' hospital hear you, why don't ya? Keep it down!" America whispered, leaning over towards Canada to make sure that no one else would be able to hear from the hall or the cameras, "I'm really screwed, aren't I?"
"No...I mean, I'm just kinda shocked. It's not everyday your brother tells you he's in love with his father-figure, eh?" Canada replied, keeping his voice hushed.
America shuddered, "Please don't say it like that. That's gross. Besides, it's not like we're actually related, right? He found me, so we're not blood related. Jesus, Matt, I'm freaking out about this enough without you making it sound so...ugh!"
"Sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his wavy hair, "So, what are you planning to do, Alfred?" Usually, it would be Alfred helping Matthew out of dilemmas, not the other way around. He felt awkward, and not quite knowing what his brother needed to hear. But he still felt a bit indebted to America, for helping him out earlier.
"I don't know, Mattie, I really don't..." America sighed, "This would be so much easier if it weren't England of all people. He'd probably just laugh at me and call me an immature git, or something..."
"Well, maybe he doesn't need the straightforward approach," Canada suggested, "Try smaller things than just telling him your feelings. Drop little hints here and there; make him want you before you confess, eh? That way you both get what you want, without anything too awkward happening. You have to make him desire you."
America blinked. "Mattie...?"
"Yes?"
A small grin worked its way across America's face, "You've spent way too much time around France! You devious little genius! From now on, you're totally my sidekick in operation: make Iggy lovestruck!" he jumped up from his chair, grabbing his sibling in a bone-crushing hug.
"S-sidekick?" Canada asked, the air being squeezed from him, "More like 'accomplice', e-eh...?"
"Please, Mattie! That sounds way too evil! I'm the HERO, remember?" America laughed, setting the younger man back on his feet.
"Of course, Al."
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
The remainder of the time passed like oil on water. Morale was relatively high, with Italy excited for the coming arrival of his friend, Romano and Greece pleased with their successful attack, America having a huge weight off his chest and Canada happy for his brother. Soon, it was already late in the following day, and everyone was gathered in the commons room, waiting for the arrival of Poland.
"Wasn't he supposed to be here an hour ago?" Finland asked, watching Hanatamago and Kumajirou chase each other in circles on the floor.
"Fl'ght prob'ly g't d'lay'd." Sweden replied, staring out the window. It was raining for the first time since any of them had arrived. It certainly didn't put a damper on the mood though, as America laughed loudly.
"Don't worry! He'll get here. If there's anyone stubborn enough to drag an entire team of shrinks through a storm, it's Poland." he said, lounging back on the couch beside Canada.
"Ve~! I hope he gets here soon! We'll have so much to talk about!" Italy clapped his hands excitedly.
"Yeah, good for you," Romano retorted sarcastically, "The grand reunion of the Fag Brigade!"
"Do you always have a snide remark for every bloody thing?" England asked, slamming a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets closed.
"Damn straight I do!" he nodded, smirking.
"Yer such a brat..." Turkey muttered under his breath, holding a bag of ice over his left eye, which had swollen shut since his 'accident' yesterday.
Romano huffed, "You guys are the ones getting pissed, not me."
"Grâce à toi," France replied, "Why can't we all just wait out the silence, simply enjoying our company?" he asked, sliding closer to wrap an arm around Canada, who flushed.
"Laissez-moi tranquille!" Canada squeaked, slipping out of the Frisian's reach. America laughed, while England slapped himself on the forehead.
"All is in jest, my little Mathieu~!" France chortled, holding up his hands in surrender.
"Oui, j'te gage..." Canada muttered, before laughing as well, losing his composure to the stupidity of the moment.
"C'rs j'st p'lled in." Sweden stated, still staring out the window. Indeed, through the gloomy darkness of the outside world, a medical van pulled in along the paved roadway, yellow headlights reflecting brightly off of the rain-streaked glass of the windows.
"Judging by the headlights, I'm gonna assume you said that he's here, 'cause I understood none of that." Greece said, moving over to look out the window as well. Stifling a yawn, he turned to China, "They're not that late, are they?"
"Just over an hour, aru. Though it's lucky that the flight wasn't delayed even longer with this storm." China replied, sparing a glance to the clock on the wall.
"Hey, at least he made it safely, eh?" Canada ventured, "I mean, with the storm like this-" He was cut off as a loud crack of thunder shook the building, "-It's lucky that they didn't crash or something."
Mere moments later, the unmistakable clacking of high heels against the linoleum tiles echoed down the hallway, like so many times before. Only this time, not only were the noises much faster, but there were multiple sets. Muffled shouts and protests grew louder as the persons in question quickly approached the entrance to the commons room. The owner of the first pair of heels raced through the door, laughing wildly and ignoring the protests of the lady doctor who ran behind.
"Like, ohmigod guys! you would not believe the storm out there! It's like, a freaking hurricane or something!" Poland announced, skidding to a stop expertly in front of the group of Nations, not once stumbling even with his three-inch heels. The Polish doctor accompanying him entered, bending over to catch her breath.
Italy was the first one to attack, "Poland! Ve~! I've missed you so much!" he cried, throwing himself at the smaller man and latching around his chest.
"Italy!" Poland cheered, returning the hug with equal vigor, "I, like, totally missed you too!" he pulled away, taking the time to study the rest of the group through his long eyelashes, "Awww, Liet's not here yet, huh? Too bad, I was getting real, like, sad without him around. But you're just as good, Ita!"
"Poland, dude," America grinned, slapping the other man on the back, "Good to see ya!"
"Like, right back at you." Poland replied, flicking his long hair over his shoulders, "You guys too, France and England! Totally sweet to see you all again."
"Er...yeah." England muttered, sighing deeply. Was it too much to wish that Poland had changed, even just a little bit?
"Bonsoir et beinvenue," France shrugged, gesturing around him.
Greece offered a small wave, and Finland a welcoming "hello", while Sweden just stood there, looking intimidating as usual. China wasn't as close to Poland as many of the others, and so he opted for remaining silent and bowing. Turkey waved, looking rather unhappy with the ice bag still pressed against his face.
"OH! Okay, guys, you've like, totally gotta hear what happened to me on the plane! So, right, there was this guy and he-"
While Poland went on the recount the story of how one of the flight attendants had mistaken him for a pretty girl and flirted with him, Nurse Wilson was engaging herself in a conversation with the doctor that had accompanied the patient over from Warsaw.
"He does not seem to cause problems though?" she asked, and the nurse shook her head in the negative.
"No, only he is very particular about clothes. Best let him wear clothes of choice." the doctor replied, her English only partially broken as she spoke. Nurse Wilson nodded, not quite sure whether she should be relieved or disappointed in the fact that this patient wasn't as mentally stressed as his changes might have suggested.
"Alright. Thank you for the information." she shook the doctors hand, accepting the profile page for this newest patient. As the doctor took her leave, Nurse Wilson took the time to look over the page.
Feliks Łucasiewicz (Poland)
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Height: 5"5'
Birthday: July 22nd
Hair Color: Blond
Eye Color: Green
So he was only nineteen? And the second youngest, in between Alfred and Matthew. In total, it seemed to her like the age difference in the patients was very precise. From eighteen to twenty-eight, with the majority of them being twenty-three. They were all very young men; younger than her, at least. They would have had their entire lives ahead of them, but now, with the way this condition had affected them, there was a good chance they'd be ostracized for the rest of their lives. IF they were ever to be discharged from MacFarlane's.
Looking up to the cross-dressing boy across the room from her, a sudden wave of sympathy washed over her. The children with no futures in this room. They were still able to interact in society, but for the sake of public wellbeing and peace of mind, they probably were never going to go back to a normal life. That is, if they would ever want to go back. Their new personas didn't seem like correctness was right on their to-do lists.
Then there was the issue of the press and media sticking their noses around the facility. Three times in the past week, security had to be called in order to escort photographers off of hospital grounds. Two of the incidents had occurred while the patients were out of the building in the fenced-off rec area, putting them in full view of the cameras. They'd been doing all they could to keep the reporters at bay and the patients unaware of what was happening, but with the amount of interest the media was giving them, it was only just a matter of time before something happened.
They didn't even know whether it was already too late.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
Two weeks had come and gone since the arrival of Poland, without so much as one call from another country. No more Nations had been found, and if they were out there, they were keeping themselves well hidden. It was now July 12th, meaning that both America and Canada's birthdays had come and gone. The fireworks on Independence Day could be seen clear from MacFarlane's, and the nurses had been kind enough to allow them out into the recreation yard to watch the display. America was ecstatic, while Canada was slightly miffed that there would be no such celebration for Canada Day.
Romano and Greece hadn't been able to enact any of their other plots against Turkey since their first attempt; Nurse Wilson had been keeping a watchful eye on the duo, lest her suspicions be confirmed. They weren't too disappointed though; Turkey had been roomed together with Poland, and the dark rings under his eyes were a telltale sign that he hadn't been getting much sleep out of THAT deal. France's birthday was only two days away; the date of the revolution always served to make the Nation happy, but distant.
Today, they had gathered in a large room on the second floor. The three tables set out in the room were covered in pencils and paper.
"Okay," Nurse Wilson began as she ushered the group of patients into the room, "Dr. Eticott called an emergency meeting, so you'll all have to stay in here and draw until it's over. I know you'd much rather be doing other things, but we're short-staffed and this required the least supervision."
Italy made a concerned noise, "Oh no! Is everything okay?"
"Seriously Ita, everything's prolly, like, totally fine." Poland interjected. In the two weeks he'd been in the hospital, he'd made himself well at home. From the 'acceptable' clothing he'd been allowed to wear to the eyeliner he begged the nurses to let him keep, he had the hospital staff wrapped around his painted, well-manicured finger.
"Poland's right," she agreed, "I'm sure it's nothing too bad. I just need you all to behave while I'm in this meeting, and then I promise, we'll take you outside for some rec time."
"No problem." America grinned, "We don't mind drawing, do we?" Looking to the others, he was met with a chorus of agreement. And why wouldn't he? When you have the skills of your entire country behind you, it was nearly impossible for you to be unskilled at art.
"Thank you."
With that, she left the room. The short walk to the elevator that took her up to the third floor was full of worry. Even she didn't know what the meeting was called for; she was the head nurse, not one of the important, decorated psychologists working in the hospital. The doors ding-ed as they slid open and she hurried down the next hall. The meeting was to be held in one of the conference rooms, which thankfully wasn't too far away from the elevators.
She could hear hushed mutterings from the other side of the double-doors as she drew near, some of the angry mutterings in languages she couldn't understand. The foreign doctors were there already.
Pushing the doors open, she was met with five people. Dr. Eticott, looking stressed and tired, along with Dr. Bolson, the psychologist from the United Kingdom. With them were the doctors from Finland, Italy and Poland. The troubled looks on all of their faces were readily apparent.
"What happened, sir?" Nurse Wilson asked, looking around at the doctors who had turned their attention to her. Tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, she approached her boss, who slid a newspaper across the long conference table toward her.
"This happened." he sighed, massaging the space between his eyes. Glancing down at the article on the table, a gasp escaped her lips.
MACFARLANE'S HIDING PATIENTS?
Not even a month after every existing patient and over half of the medical staff was transferred from the renowned psychiatric hospital, new faces have started appearing around the grounds. Speculated reports claim that the asylum has been cleared out and used as a special facility to house invalids of a new, undisclosed sort. While we cannot provide any solid proof of the true nature of the sudden change at MacFarlane's without a verified source, the hospital staff and administration have been adamantly refusing any attempt at interviews or questions.
Underneath is a photo taken by one of our amateur photographers. In the photo is 34 year-old Louisa Wilson, the head nurse of MacFarlane's, along with several of these supposed "secret patients".
The picture included in the article was from the Independence Day fireworks. Dusk had just settled in the black-and-white photo, and Nurse Wilson, as well as America, Canada, and a half-asleep Greece could be seen. America and Canada were settled together on the grass, awed expressions on their faces as they watched the fireworks light up the sky. Greece was sprawled back on the ground, staring with heavy eyes at the sky, while Nurse Wilson stood over to the side, eyes also on the display.
"What...? I didn't even see a camera flash..." she muttered in disbelief, looking up to Dr. Eticott.
"Of course. It would have looked just like another part of the fireworks. I gave you full permission to take the patients out to watch the show; you are in no way to be held responsible for this." he assured, "The only troublesome part of this is what we're to do now. The public is sure to jump all over this. This article has already circulated through most of upper America and Canada. No doubt it'll have arrived in Europe by the end of the week. There's no way of knowing how the higher-upps in the media are going to twist this once it gets circulated."
"Are we shutting the hospital to non-registered personnel?" she asked, pushing the newspaper away.
"Already voted against." he said, "It would make any fabrication the paper comes up with seem even more believable. Plus, we're still retrieving regular supply shipments and it would overreach our budget in order to rely on specified companies."
"We'd better think of something bloody soon," Dr. Bolson interjected, pulling the blinds away from the window, "The dogs are already gathering outside the gates."
Moving over to the window, it was quite plain to see that, indeed, a small crowd had gathered around the front gates of MacFarlane's Psychiatric Hospital. Cameras could be seen recording spokespeople talking into microphones. What they were reporting on, the staff inside could only guess.
~o~O~o~O~o~O~o~
-Four days later...-
The lights from the television illuminated the small living room. Immaculately clean, save for the small mountain of beer cans crushed atop the coffee table. A figure lay sprawled out across the couch, flipping through channels via remote.
"Before me is MacFarlane's Psychiatric Hospital in Washington DC, America. Witnesses have reported seeing the rumored "secret patients" that the hospital staff are supposedly keeping withing the building, under the radar from the public eye. To this date we've been able to gather three photos of some of the patients, but no one has been able to positively identify any of them. Here are the pictures, appearing on your screens"
As the colored images flashed up on the screen, shadowed eyed widened, and a wolfish grin spread across the face lit by the white light of the television screen.
"Kesesesesese, West! You might wanna see this!" A rough voice cackled. A sigh came from the adjoining room.
"Ja, ja, what is it now?"
-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-xo-
translations:
"Mon cher enfant" - "my dear child"
"Non, non Amérique!" - "No, no America!"
"Angleterre" - "England"
"Allemagne" - "Germany"
"Chine" - "China"
"Inghilterra!" - "England!" (Italian)
"Grâce à toi," - "Thanks to you,"
"Laissez-moi tranquille!" - "Leave me alone!"
"Oui, j'te gage..." - "Yeah, I bet..." (at least, I think this is it. I'm not sure if it's Frisian, 'cause I heard it from a Quebecois relative)
"Bonsoir et bienvenue" - "Good evening and welcome"
And there you have it! DUNDUNDUNNNNN~!
I do love Turkey; I got to use a Firefly profanity in it! :D
As usual, reviews would be lovely!