Anthony looked at me and smiled. "Oh, hi!" he said. "Fancy meeting you here! I'm assuming you're looking for him?" He poked Canada's head with the gun, and Canada whimpered.

I stood there absolutely frozen. My heart pounded in my ears and my mouth hung open in disbelief. I may have been sad for a while after we broke up, but I wasn't obsessed with Anthony to the point of seeing him when I knew he wasn't there. There was no way he was here; he couldn't be. Why would he be anyway? He had no business with Flying Mint Bunny Incorporated. Hell, I doubt he even knew the company existed! I had to have been hallucinating. There was absolutely no way my ex-boyfriend was standing in front of me right now with my Chibi Canada Unit at gunpoint.

I blinked a few times, trying to make him go away, but he didn't.

He was really here, and this was really happening.

"What in God's name…?" I muttered. Anthony titled his head and looked at me curiously. There was a sort of sick innocence he had about him that made the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm doing my job, duh. More importantly, what are you doing here?"

"I think you already answered that question," I motioned with my head to the shaking Chibi Canada in his arms. Canada looked at me with wide eyes and I gave him a reassuring look. "But that's beside the point. So after you broke up with me, you decided to work for the FMBDS and get on my case just so you could try to hurt me further by taking Canada as a hostage?" I shook my head. "That's low, Anthony. Really, really low."

Once again Anthony looked thoroughly confused. "Broke up? Since when were we ever dating?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Now you're just messing with me. I don't appreciate sarcasm unless it's my own,"

Anthony shrugged. "Think what you want, but I have no idea who you are. All I know is that this Chibi Unit belongs to you and you aren't getting him back until you had over your War For Independence America Unit. And judging by the amount of guards deployed to the Eastern Wing, I'd say you guys got separated, no?"

This wasn't making any sense. First of all, Anthony was never this sarcastic. In fact, he hardly ever understood sarcasm at all. Secondly, beneath his seemingly innocent exterior, he was acting creepy. Like, super creepy. Almost Russia-level creepy. And finally, he had no idea who I was.

The FMBDS had done something to him.

I looked at him warily and took a step forward. In response, he tightened his hold on Canada and pushed the gun against his temple.

"You really don't remember me?" I asked, watching him carefully while looking at Canada from my peripheral vision. "You don't recognize me at all?"

Anthony narrowed his eyes. "Should I?"

"Well yeah! I was your girlfriend, you jerk!"

"Girlfriend? I've never had a girlfriend, unfortunately…"

And suddenly it all clicked. The last piece of the puzzle was connected and now the picture was complete. I knew something was up, something about Anthony was odd, and I had a feeling…but I didn't think it was actually true, let alone possible.

"Anthony…" I said, and took another step closer. "Did the FMBDS like, wipe your memories or something?"

Anthony blinked. He was silent for a minute and then suddenly, he burst into laughter. In his arms, Canada whimpered and struggled to get free. "That's funny. Really, it is. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm the same as I've always been, thank you very much."

I stared at him, my eyes wide. "You…you honestly don't remember?"

"Remember what? Look, enough stalling; we've been here long enough. Just give us the America Unit and you can take this here Chibi Canada and go home. Then everybody's happy, all right?"

"False. I won't be happy without both Canada and America in my possession. And in case you haven't figured it out by now, and you probably haven't because you were always the last to understand anything, I didn't come here to make a fair trade. All I want is Canada back. Is it really that hard of a concept to grasp?"

Anthony sighed. I could tell he was getting frustrated and just wanted to get this over with. I started feeling like that well before he did, so if anyone was going to get what they wanted from all of this, it was going to be me.

"You know, I never did find stubbornness attractive in a woman. Might I remind you that I'm the one holding the gun here?" Just to prove his point, he pointed his gun to the ceiling and fired. I flinched and Canada cried out, but was silenced when the barrel of the gun was once again resting against his head.

I glared at him and clenched my teeth. "Let's not resort to violence here. Just give me a minute to explain myself, all right? I don't want to have to fight you if I can help it."

Anthony scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. But go ahead; enlighten me. I've got time."

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was willing to listen to reason. Now I just needed to figure out what exactly to say. Where should I start? There was so much to go over…

I supposed the most obvious starting point would be to tell him that we were both students at the same quaint college in Pittsburg. It would be worthwhile to mention that he was best friends with Dex, and I was best friends with Dex's younger sister Lexi. Though I had already mentioned that Anthony and I were formerly dating numerous times, I figured it wouldn't hurt to remind him of just how happy we were together. I was technically lying to him and feeding him false memories, since it turned out he wasn't very happy with me after all, but it wouldn't matter in the long run, right? Our relationship was already over and he knew that, and he knew how he felt about me deep down, so it didn't matter whether or not what I told him now was the truth.

Anthony looked skeptical as I relayed my carefully hand-picked information to him. When I got to the part about us being in a relationship, his eyebrows furrowed in anger and I could tell I had taken a step too far, though I don't know why talking about us would make him angry like that, and so I fell silent and simply watched him carefully.

"If…if we were dating, and we were so happy…" Anthony looked at the gun he held in his hand, as if vaguely disgusted by its presence. "Then why would they turn me against you? Why would they try to hurt you by using something you loved?"

I looked at him sadly. "I wondered the exact same thing when I got the letter on Christmas Day saying that the company took Canada. I wondered the same thing when they said the only way to get Canada back was to hand over America as an exchange. I wondered the same thing when I ran into you just now and saw that you had my baby hostage."

"M-Maman!" Canada cried, and I so desperately wanted to reach out and take him into my arms, to stroke his hair as I told him that everything would be all right, but I knew that if I made any sudden movements, especially when Anthony was experiencing an identity crisis and didn't know which side he was on, I could potentially be putting him in even more danger than he already was.

I ignored those depressing thoughts and turned my attention back to the situation at hand. "So, do you remember now?" I asked, my fingers crossed behind my back. "I can tell you more, if you're unsure…"

Anthony looked so confused. I actually felt kind of bad for him, as much as the part of me that was still bitter over our break up didn't want me to. "I…" he mumbled. He put his free hand on his head and squeezed tightly. "I don't know what's true and what's a lie."

"Well, I can honestly tell you that everything I said was true. I'm not trying to be the bad guy here, I swear."

"Is it normal to have flashbacks if your memory has supposedly been wiped clean?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Of course, that stuff happens all the time. It can come back all at once, which could be quite terrifying actually, or it can come back in pieces. Why? Are you seeing something?"

Anthony didn't reply. His eyes were distant and his mouth was partly open in shock. Moments passed without anything happening, and Canada gave me a confused and scared look. I could only shrug in response.

Suddenly, Anthony gasped and his eyes snapped back into focus. He stared at me widely and then looked down at himself. His gun fell from his hand and clattered onto the floor, and just a few seconds after, my ex-boyfriend was on his knees, holding his head in his hands tightly. Now free, Canada rushed to me and grabbed my legs in a death grip and began to cry.

Immediately my motherly instincts kicked into over-drive and I bent down to scoop Canada into my arms. He buried his head into my chest and his wailing sobs became muffled, but even then they were still too much for me to bear. I felt my own eyes begin to water as I stroked his head and played with his golden blonde hair. He shook in my arms and my heart broke to see him in such a state.

"Shh," I whispered. "Everything's all right. Mamma's got you, baby. Mamma's got you."

Canada looked up at me, his nose running and his face soaked with salty tears. "M-Maman… "Tu m'as manqué!" Tu m'as tellement manqué!"

I nodded, remembering that "Tu m'as manqué"meant "I missed you". America told me that once…Speaking of America, were he and England okay? What if they were caught, or killed, or were about to be killed? All because I couldn't control my anger and left them on their own? God, how could I be so stupid?

I pushed that thought aside. What happened to them wasn't my problem right now. Besides, I was the one who wanted to leave them and go back for Korea anyway. I'm sure they could handle themselves.

Nodding to myself, I looked down at Canada in my arms. His face was buried in my chest, so I smoothed back his hair and tried to comfort him. "Canada, it's okay. You're safe now. It's okay, I've got you."

"Lily…"

I looked up, seeing Anthony standing with his gun clutched loosely in his hand, and immediately went on the defensive. I turned my back to him slightly to shield Canada and gave Anthony a sharp glare.

Anthony looked at me guiltily. If he was trying to make me feel sorry for him then he was sorely mistaken. It's not exactly easy to forgive someone when they were just holding a gun to your child's head, after all.

"Lily, I'm so sorry."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Quit playing games," I spat. "I don't have time for this."

"I…I remember now. I remember how happy we were. The FMBDS or whatever the hell they're called realized this and used me against you." Anthony glanced down at his gun and dropped it in disgust. "They fucked everything up. They turned me against you and I am so sorry."

Something in me wanted to feel really sorry for him. Only now did I realize he had bruises all over his arms and a few scars that had never been there before. I didn't know what the FMBDS did to him, but it must've been horrific. He had probably been through so much, so how could I not pity him? How could I just stand here stone-faced and cold and shrug off his problems just because he broke up with me such a long time ago?

I was about to say something when suddenly Anthony took Canada out of my grip and set him down on the floor. My hands flew up to slap him or do anything, but Anthony grabbed them before they could. He moved forward and suddenly his arms were around me, encircling my waist. I tried to move, to do something, but for some reason I couldn't, and so I simply stood there, debating whether to push him away or hug him back.

"Can we start over?" Anthony asked, and his breath tickled my ears. My eyes widened and shifted uncomfortably. "I had no idea what was happening back then with your Units. I was stupid, Lily. I jumped to conclusions too quickly. I still love you, I always have. I knew I shouldn't have broken up with you, but Dex convinced me to. He told me it sounded like we shouldn't be dating, and I was dumb enough to believe him."

My heart starting beating faster. My palms were sweaty, my face was on fire, and suddenly I felt like a teenager that just found out her crush liked her back. Anthony still loved me? Was this for real? After all this time alone, I could simply forget all of the heartbreak and be happy again?

But this wasn't right. If Anthony still loved me, than why did he break up with me in the first place? If he was having doubts then he shouldn't have done it. True, I had heard Dex say we were falling out of love, but Anthony was never one to listen to people's advice or take others seriously. Why would he listen to Dex? In case he hadn't noticed after living with him for a few years, Dex was pretty stupid and didn't understand romance all that well.

I shook my head to myself. This could all turn out to be some kind of trick. Anthony was probably trying to get me to trust him, and then he would stab me in the back (hopefully not literally) and take Canada. And there was no way in hell I would let him to that. I had just gotten Canada back; I couldn't trust Anthony just yet. I didn't care how sincere he sounded; he would not get my sympathy.

With this thought in mind, I pushed him away. He looked at me sadly but I couldn't meet his eyes. "No, Anthony, I can't. I…just, not right now. Okay? Now's not the best time,"

Anthony backed off quickly. He averted his gaze, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Uh, right, of course. Sorry…"

I was silent for a moment before shaking my head and saying awkwardly "Whatever, we need to go now. Are you on our side or not?"

He nodded. "Of course. Just tell me what you need."

"All right. First thing's first: we need to find Korea and Russia. Korea was wounded by one of your buddies and Russia volunteered to stay with him. They should be in the East Wing."

"You're not going to go after America?"

I frowned and tightened my hold on Canada. "…No. I trust that he and England can take care of themselves for the time being." Canada looked up at me sadly, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks shining from the lights overhead. "Besides, he probably doesn't want to see me right now."

Anthony raised his eyebrows. "Do I want to know?"

"Not really."

He clapped his hands together and rocked back and forth on his feet. "I can respect that," He bent over to pick up his gun. "Well, we should head out before any other guards come. Wouldn't do us any good to stay here."

I agreed, and we continued down the hall in silence. Canada refused to leave my arms and it's not like I would have put him down anyway, so it was no trouble carrying him around everywhere we went. As we walked Anthony was always a few paces ahead of me, which was good, I guess, since he was prepared to go in the line of fire first and he was probably thinking it would be too awkward to walk so close to each other after what just happened—something with which I completely agreed.

Walking down the hall, I realized that everything would be okay. Well, it would be after we got Korea and Russia, then found America and England and high-tailed it out of here, at least. But thinking about the process was simple. All we had to do was find my remaining Units, evade the guards, and get the hell out of here. I was almost in the clear. We were almost done with this whole mess.

That is, we would be if we first got out of the one we had just been thrown in.

Anthony slammed me up against the wall and covered my mouth with his hand. I opened my mouth and tried to scream, but he looked at me with a deadly expression and put a finger to his lips. Judging by how much he was freaking out, I figured it would be worthwhile to go with whatever he was thinking, even if it was so sudden.

I nodded and remained quiet, but Canada was harder to convince. He wiggled in my arms and started whimpering, so I tried to give him a look to tell him to be quiet. He saw it and seemed to understand the severity of the situation, because he stopped struggling and covered his mouth with his hands.

We stayed up against the wall in silence, listening. We were at an intersection, and footsteps were coming from the right. They got louder and louder as they came down the hall, and I prayed that they wouldn't turn the corner and find us here.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what they did.

"Well shit, I was hoping that would work," Anthony said annoyed as he pistol-whipped one of the two guards. The guard fell to the ground, his hand flying up to clutch his nose, which was slowly trickling blood. Anthony then threw his gun at the other guards face, and as the guard stumbled back from the force of the impact, Anthony kneed him in the groin. "We need to go now," he said hurriedly.

I rolled my eyes. "Tell me something I don't know,"

We quickly looted the guards of their guns and some keys Anthony thought were useful before taking off down the hall. Alarms were sounded after shots were fired somewhere near us, and over the intercom officers were being told to go our way. We turned down any hall we found, Anthony knocking out any officer that stood in our way. Eventually we came to a dead end, and as we heard numerous footsteps getting louder and louder as who knows how many officers were advancing on us, Anthony opened a random door that apparently led to a supply closet and shoved me inside.

I held onto Canada tightly and jammed my foot between the door and frame. "What the hell are you doing?" I whisper-yelled. Anthony tried to close the door again, but I wouldn't budge. "We're getting out together, damn it!"

"Just let me save your ass!" Anthony exclaimed. His expression softened, and he looked at me sadly. "Just let me make it up to you,"

It dawned on me what he was hinting at and immediately my hand shot out to grip his arm. "No," I said firmly, looking him dead in the eyes. "No, not like this. Not here. Come with me,"

"Don't you think it would look a little suspicious if we just suddenly vanished?" Anthony looked down the hall, his expression darkening. "We're running out of time. Whatever you do, stay in here. Promise me you won't come out until everything is quiet and you hear them move on,"

I searched his eyes frantically. "Anthony, whatever you're planning-"

He cupped my face then and kissed me gently. I stared, wide-eyed, as he pulled away a few seconds later and backed out into the hall.

"You be good to your mom," he said, pointing to Canada. He turned his gaze to me. "Tell America and Korea to behave themselves, for your sake."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "Anthony, stop."

"I'm so sorry,"

He closed the door shut and I heard his keys jingling as he locked it. Suddenly the keys slid underneath the door and they stopped at my feet. I heard the shattering of glass and Anthony shouted "Lily, go!". The sound of footsteps was just outside the door now and guns began to fire. They went on shooting for at least a minute, and then all at once the firing ceased.

A man swore, and I could hear his footsteps as he walked away from the door. "They escaped through the window. Everybody clear out; search the forest," he said angrily. A few other men grumbled and slowly they began to walk away.

After a minute or two everything fell silent, but Canada and I waited for what seemed like a half an hour. Eventually I mustered up the courage to leave and bent down to pick up the keys. With shaking hands, I put the keys in the slot and turned them. I turned the door handle and pushed the door open slowly.

Peeking out, I saw that the coast was clear, so I took one step out of the closet and looked towards the dead end.

The window was broken, and shards of glass littered the floor, but I took one look of the red that splattered the floor and walls and nearly screamed.

I didn't believe it; I couldn't. But it was there, and it was real. Bloody footprints led away from the body at the windowsill and down the hall. From where I was standing I could see he was littered with bullet holes. There was no mercy.

I stepped back into the closet and shut the door slowly. When it was closed all the way, I slid down it and onto the floor. Canada jumped out of my arms and I covered my face with my hands.

The tears came like a flood. I felt myself begin to hyperventilate, and I tried to calm down, but it was no use. Images of his form lying still and in a massive puddle of red flashed across my mind and I began to sob and wail. I pulled at my hair and beat on the floor with my fists. A few times Canada tried to comfort me but I screamed and pushed him away.

There was a literal pain in my heart. My face was hot and soaked with tears. It was hard to breathe; it was hard to feel anything but pure pain at that moment.

A few times I calmed down enough to take deep breaths and wipe my face, but the same image flashed across my eyes again and I began to sob even harder than the last time. I didn't care if anyone heard me. A part of me wanted them to hear me, but for two reasons. One was so they would put me out of my misery, and one was so I could slaughter them all.

Eventually I reduced to a quiet sniffling, and it was then that I let Canada come close. I embraced him tightly and tried not to start crying again. "We need to go," I said shakily. I wanted to stay, it seemed like a crime to just leave his body there, but our lives were still on the line. "We need to go,"

I looked up and saw a grate near the ceiling, and figured that with a small boost I could take the plate off the wall and we could crawl through the air vents. So standing on one of the levels of a shelf, I unscrewed the bolts with a wrench I found on the top shelf, and removed the grate. I lifted Canada up and set him in the air vent, then climbed in myself. Slowly and as quietly as possible, we began to crawl.

I had absolutely no idea where we were going. Somewhere back in that whole mess I lost my map, so by all definitions of the term, we were fucked. I just picked random direction and we crawled, hoping it led us outside and not into more trouble.

After about ten minutes of silence, I heard Canada begin to sniffle. He stopped in front of me and I saw his shoulders shaking.

I reached out to him and touched his shoulder gently. "Canada…Canada, honey, look at me," He slowly turned around, and his face was stained with tears.

"Maman…j'ai peur," he whispered. He began to sob and shake harder. "J'ai peur…"

"I know," I said soothingly. "I know," Only I didn't know, and I had no way of knowing, but whatever he said I was sure there was someway to comfort him. "It's going to be okay. We're going to be okay,"

"Je veux rentre chex eux."

"I know,"

"Je ne veux pas être ici plus,"

"I know,"

I gave him a hug and tried to reassure him, but we couldn't stay there forever, so eventually we had to move on. Once we passed over a grate that let us see down into the hallway below and we saw guards and other officials running towards the back entrance. The alarm was still sounding and red lights were flashing everywhere. Every time I saw a flash of red it reminded me of the scene we just left, and I had to close my eyes to block it out, lest I break down again.

After a few more minutes of crawling, we came upon another grate. At this point I had to stop. There were too many things rattling around in my head, too many thoughts, too many emotions. I just needed a moment to figure things out, and then I would be good.

Only I wouldn't be good, because a toddler and I were crawling through an air vent to save our lives, two of my Units were on the run, one was possibly captured, the other quite possibly dead, and my ex-boyfriend was just brutally murdered only ten or so minutes after he finally came to his senses, apologized, and tried to make everything all right by ensuring that I got out of here alive and with all of my Units in one piece.

We were screwed. There was no sugarcoating it. No playing it down, no giving false hope. There was no hope anymore. I was going to die here. I would never get married, never have kids (biological ones, at least), never grow old with the person I love. I couldn't protect Canada because I was utterly useless. I had no special fighting skills, no tricks to keep myself and others alive, no quick thinking and leadership experiences. I had left two of my Units on their own even when I knew it was a bad idea, and then abandoned the other two just because I couldn't handle the stress. Well, now the stress was a thousand-fold and I had no idea what to do.

So I sat there and cried. I thought of all of my mistakes, of all the things I've sacrificed, of how I was breaking my promise of always protecting my Units no matter what, and I cried so hard I thought I would pass out.

I was a failure. I blew it. This was all my fault. I let everyone I loved down. And now we were all going to die here, and I was too ashamed of all of my mistakes to try to tell them how sorry I was for ruining their lives.

Canada cried with me, and I wondered what was going on in his head. Did he see hope? Did he want to keep fighting? Or was he giving up, like me? Accepted his fate, prepared to die? I wish I knew; I wish I knew how to comfort him, to make it all better, but I couldn't, because America wasn't here and I didn't know how to speak fucking French.

We sat there for a while, just wallowing in our grief, when suddenly I heard hurried footsteps running down the hall. We silenced ourselves immediately and I pushed Canada back so he couldn't be seen through the grate. I peered over the edge and listened, waiting for someone to run by.

There were two people. They both had blonde hair, but what made me recognize them immediately was one of the guy's ahoge sticking up straight in the air. At that moment, as soon as I saw that one feature, relief and joy washed over me like a tsunami. Seeing America and England alive brought me to tears. I was so distracted by my emotions that they were practically gone before I took any action.

I laid down on my stomach and got my face as close to the grate as possible. "Pssssst!" I whispered. "America! England!"

The pair drew their guns instantly. Looking around wildly, they gripped the weapons tightly, their fingers itching to pull the trigger at any moment.

England peered up and down the hall, confused. "Who's there?" he whispered back.

"Up here!"

They looked up, their guns following their eyes. When they saw that it was me, all tension was wiped from their faces. They loosened their grip on their weapons and smiled widely. England looked ecstatic, America looked relieved. Both were safe and unharmed, and that was all that mattered to me.

I rattled the grate a bit and it came off with ease. "Can you help us down?" I asked. England put his gun in its holster and held out his arms. As I lowered myself from the air vent, he gripped my waist and guided me when I jumped down. When he was sure I was okay, England gave me a huge bear hug, trapping me in his arms. I laughed and cried at the same time into his shoulder, thankful that he was all right.

England rubbed my back. "Boy, it's good to see you," he said. "It's been a while,"

I chuckled through my tears. "Yeah, I'd say so,"

"Maman?" Canada's voice floated from the ceiling. He peered out from the grate, afraid, and held onto the edges of the opening for dear life.

I moved away from England and held out my arms. "It's okay," I told him. "I'll catch you,"

England was elated. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Canada! How did you find him?"

"Long story; tell you another time," I caught Canada as he jumped and handed him to England, who immediately began to coo over him. I smiled at how cute they looked. England was a fantastic older brother when he wanted to be.

Taking one last look at the two, I turned to see America standing awkwardly off to the side, his hands in his pockets and his head bent down so he was looking at his feet. He shuffled around a bit, trying to avoid confrontation.

"Hey," I said, getting his attention. His head snapped up and he looked at me then turned away quickly, an embarrassed blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Hey…" he replied, trailing off. He looked up again, his eyes sad. "Look, I'm really-"

I cut him off as I enveloped him in a hug, my face buried in his shoulder. My hands gripped at the fabric of his uniform tightly as I began to feel my eyes water and my lip tremble.

"Thank God you're safe," I whispered. He probably couldn't hear me since my voice was soft and muffled, but it didn't matter. I was mostly just reassuring myself. "You're not dead; you're not dead."

America shook his head. "Not yet anyway," he said, and I smacked him on the shoulder as I pulled away.

"Don't talk like that!" I warned, but I saw that he was smiling. I smiled back, however, it was short lived as I remembered what caused us to separate in the first place. "I am so sorry, America. I didn't mean any of it,"

He shook his head again. "No, you were right. I was being selfish and ungrateful. I should have never had said what I did." He chuckled, recalling the memory. "You were pretty fucking scary…"

"Damn straight! Don't you forget it!"

As we continued to talk and catch up on what we missed, I didn't notice England walking down the end of the hall, Canada still in his arms, peeking out, and then retreating. He quickly advanced down the hall, an air of anxiousness and hurriedness swirling around him, and linked in arm through mine. He continued down the hall and ignored me when I began to protest. America followed quickly behind.

"England, what the hell?" I exclaimed. "What are you-"

"They're coming," he said. His voice was panicked.

"Who?" America asked.

England rolled his eyes. "Who do you think? The fucking guards! They saw me when I looked around the corner and now they're coming for us!"

"Well why they hell did you do that?"

"Someone's got to keep an eye out! You two shouldn't have been talking in the middle of the hall anyway! That's dangerous!"

"Let's keep our voices down!" I whispered. "Everything's going to be fine." We rounded a corner, heading to the right. "We'll…"

I trailed off as I saw five or so guards standing right in front of us. Their guns were out, pointing at us. Panicked, we turned around to come back the way we came and were the face to face with more guards.

With weapons drawn on both sides, we were trapped.

Outnumbered.

Fucked.

"Hand over the America Unit," one of the guards said. Instinctively, I walked in front of America to shield him.

"Or what?" I pressed. It was probably the dumbest thing to do in that situation, but there was some stupid part of me that thought that maybe if I challenged them, they would be the tiniest bit afraid and back off.

Needless to say, it didn't work.

"Or we open fire on all of them,"

Just then, a few more guards came from around the corner were England had first seen them, and my heart froze when I saw Russia and a limping Korea being shoved along in front of them, their hands tied and their faces bruised and bloodied.

The guards shoved them forward and we were now all huddled in the corner of both hallways, guards on either side of us. There were at least fifteen guards and only six of us. If we tried anything we would all be dead within seconds.

My mind raced to find any possible solutions. What on Earth could I do to get out of this? If I don't give them America, they shoot. If I do, they probably shoot anyway. There is no winning, no escaping from this. So what the fuck do I do?

I looked at England for help, since he was standing at the front, and after a long stare, he nodded. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. In response, he looked at America, looked at the guards, then back to me again, and nodded.

I was dumbfounded. He has to be joking. He couldn't possibly agree to letting America go! He wasn't that heartless…he couldn't be serious.

"I will not say it again," the guard said. He took a step forward.

In my mind I sincerely hoped England had some sort of plan as I stepped away from America, then put a hand on his back and pushed him towards the guards. We locked eyes and his shocked and betrayed expression made me want to die. He looked so hurt and stunned, so disappointed. For a moment I considered pushing him behind me again, but England gave me a look that made me push him forward until he was out of my reach.

Those next few moments happened so fast that I still don't remember if it was me or England who opened fire first. Either way, our guns went off, and the fight against the guards had begun. Russia and Korea had undone their bindings and had begun to fire, since apparently the guards never took their guns away when they were captured. I rotated between firing in front of me and to my left to help cover England, since he was facing the guards all alone.

America had wrenched his arm up and backhanded the guard that took him in the face. He then got behind him and used him as a shield, just in time for another guard to shoot at him. America took the gun from his hand and began to fire as well.

The sounds were deafening and I could barely make out a strangled cry as England jolted backwards, having been shot in the shoulder. The hall in front of me was clear, all the guards lying dead on the floor, the tiles being washed in red. A bullet grazed the top of my shoulder as I turned and struck the wall behind me. There was one guard left, and America ran towards him, hands balled into fists.

The two began to throw punches as the rest of us ran forward. I saw that the guard was losing and a sense of victory overwhelmed me. We had won. We had fought off all the guards. We were all here, injured but not dead, and we would make it out of this alive. All of us. Together.

But then I saw the glint of a knife as it slid out from the guards sleeve.

It happened before I had the time to make any kind of sound from my open mouth. The blade was thrust forward with lightning fast speed, once, twice, three whole times before I could raise my gun. America grunted and doubled over, his hands leaving the guards shoulders to cover his chest, and before the guard could make a forth move, I fired a bullet straight into his head.

He fell over and was still. America collapsed and rolled on his back. I dropped my gun, horrified, as I saw dark red begin to pool around him.

"America!" I screamed as I rushed forward. I fell to my knees and grabbed his shoulders. My vision was blurry. I could hardly breathe. Beneath me, America's left arm fluttered up and gripped my arm tightly. His hand was red like he had dipped it in paint.

I blinked, and America's pale face came into focus. Blood dribbled from his mouth and down the sides of his face. He made horrible choking sounds, and I tried to move him so he wouldn't choke, but his eyes went wide and a bubbly scream rose from his throat even at the slightest movement.

"America, America it's going to be okay," I said hurriedly. His face was as pale as chalk. His eyes shifted from me to the other Units and back again. When I looked at his chest I could feel my blood run cold and bile rise in my throat. I began to move to take off my jacket, but America jerked me back and looked me straight in the eyes. "Hang in there, kiddo. You're f-fine…"

He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but all he could do was cough. He did so and blood splattered on my face. I was crying so hard now that my tears fell on his face like rain. I tried to wipe them away, to clear the blood from America's mouth, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably.

America coughed again. He wasn't moving as much, his right hand over his wounds relaxing. I looked into his eyes, blue like the vast, open sky, a sky of freedom. His eyes were glassy, slowly going dull. His face was smooth like porcelain, and with my free hand I cupped his cheek gently.

"A-America…" I swallowed thickly, forcing the words out. Slowly, his eyes shifted to meet mine, but I could tell he wasn't really seeing me. My heart constricted; it felt like my chest was on fire. "Hey…y-you're going to be okay…"

His hand on my arm began to relax. His arm began to drop.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed, burying my head in hands and leaning onto his chest. It was just barely rising now. "This is…this is all m-my…my fault…I'm so sorry…"

I reached for his hand, gripping it gently and stroking it with my thumb. When I looked back into his eyes, he was staring at the ceiling. He had stopped coughing. He had stopped moving. I checked his chest for a sign, for anything showing that he was still here.

It was still.

I grabbed his face with both of my bloodied hands and shook him. "America, wake up." I shook him a little harder. "W-wake up," I said weakly. "Please."

"Lily…" England whispered.

"No…America, please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! You have to…you have to forgive me,"

"Lily…" England placed a hand on my shoulder and I turned to him, just barely making out his face through my tears. "It's over."

I shook my head fervently, vigorously. "No, it can't be. He can't be. We were supposed to go home, all of us!"

"He's gone,"

The words pierced through me as if I had been shot. I stopped crying, my face going blank, as I relayed the words in my head. When I looked down below me, the sight and words clicked together and finally made sense.

America was dead.

I scooped him up and my arms and wept.

AN: ...