A Matter of Course

By: cultureandseptember

Chapter Nineteen: Testing Point

How few there are who have courage enough to own their faults, or resolution enough to mend them.

– Benjamin Franklin

The sandwich was stale and the bread was difficult to swallow. I chewed slowly, carefully. My foot absently tapped the table's iron leg, causing it to rock back and forth, unsteady. Like me, really. The metallic rhythm—tap, tap, tap— of iron against linoleum was lulling me into a trance. On the tabletop, cold tea swished back and forth in a brown coffee mug. It was half-gone. Discarded, crumbled tissues sat in a pile to the side. I maintained the deliberate in-and-out pattern of my breathing. It wasn't until the bread was like liquid that I swallowed it. The flavor was peripheral, forgotten, bland. Some part of me wanted soup—my mother's soup, chicken noodle—or some sort of comfort food from home, like cereal or some sort of pie. Without thought, I reached up to pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. I was avoiding it, I realized after a little while. There was only so long I could avoid it.

I stopped rocking the table and sat in the still silence.

That silence pushed against my ears.

The truth was chilling. As it always was.

The other Michelles – wherever they were, however many there were—didn't matter to me.

They didn't matter.

That thought made the stale sandwich gurgle at the back of my throat. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reswallowing roughly. No matter how many circles I turned over this, the truth always remained the same. The Michelle of this world had likely been sent to Carolina's 'alternate history' and another Michelle beyond that sent to the world of HetaOni. Both were nightmares I didn't want to consider; both were realities that had to be accepted. And therein lay the first item I had to parse out.

It was easy enough to accept that these alternate Michelles existed.

Yes, that was the easy part. These worlds were real, these alternate places. So, other Michelles was only a natural conclusion. It was simple logic. I found some comfort in that logic. Reason was steady and sure. I could reason all of this out. A Michelle for each reality? My home reality, then how many more? Many. Reaching forward, I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the mug and then didn't move. I hailed from another world and this Michelle had to go somewhere. The Michelle of that world had to go somewhere. It was a cosmic domino effect.

It was displacement.

I was the displacement.

An image came into my mind. A glass in my kitchen and my father pouring oil into water and then all matter of other liquids. It was for a chemistry project when I was ten, easy enough that he could help me with while he was under treatment. When almost ten layers of liquids were in that container, he dropped a quarter into the glass. As the quarter dropped, it pulled some of the other liquids with it. My eyes closed and I leaned my head forward, neck muscles protesting painfully at the movement.

They were never hallucinations.

Really, some might've been. I couldn't say. I was far from mentally stable at the time. Some might've been forms of trauma, some visions from the other Michelles? I don't know. I didn't know. There was no way to know with any certainty.

The visions of Germany, of death. That mansion. Blood-painted numbers. They were merely forms of reality, colliding around me. And I was at the center of it all. I was the quarter, the one who shifted all the others—the catalyst, as I had been called. Those Michelles were doomed, dead or soon-to-be. My head shook and I let go of the coffee mug, sitting back again. My eyes opened again to ward off my own imagination. I could barely recall the details of HetaOni, but I knew enough. Those Michelles were as good as dead, if they weren't dead already. They were dead. They didn't matter.

They couldn't matter.

How could I ever tell someone that?

I was willing to let them suffer, not doing anything to save them?

I felt so very sorry for them. I couldn't—

Tears welled in my eyes, but I tilted my head back to keep them in. I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to just go home. It didn't really matter what home it was—I just wanted Momma and Corey. Maybe even Johnny. I just wanted to stop thinking for a while, to stop worrying. Why was that such a difficult thing to accomplish? Why couldn't I just go back to a normal life? I could work at the museum, maybe try to find a teaching job again, stay out of the drama, keep my head down, and someday settle down. That life seemed so unbelievably distant that it seemed impossible. What was normal?

I could never have it, whatever it was.

There was no escaping now.

Heaving a breath, I held it for a moment and glanced toward where my bag sat at the other end of the bed. A thrill of uncertainty rushed through my stomach before I forced myself to my feet. My hands shook a bit, but I consciously tried to steady them as I rummaged through the bag to find my phone. Brushing the pad of my index finger against the screen, a picture of my family came into view and I unlocked the screen. Nineteen text messages, four voicemail messages, and six emails. I felt tired just thinking about it. Carefully, I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed, looping my arm around the metal bedframe tubing. My neck could barely angle downward enough to reach the messages.

Corey was persistent. I'd give him that. How are you?...Michelle, you okay?...Answer my texts…Now I'm getting worried. Hurry up….He was getting increasingly agitated by my silence. I could only imagine how worried he must have been. The last time I—Well, a version of me anyway—lost contact, I'd died. Well, in all honesty, she died. And I had been in a coma. Though, I could imagine my Corey reacting the same way regardless of which Michelle it was. And honestly, what did it matter? He didn't know that I was not his sister from this world. I couldn't say with any certainty that it would matter to Corey at all. No, I knew it wouldn't. I ignored the sick feeling and typed out a quick reply.

I'm fine! Sorry, my phone charger was lost. Had to buy a new one. So I was lying to my brother.

It was better than the truth.

In that museum, I never had to wonder if I would live through another day.

I almost died. In an interrogation room. In Sweden.

I was almost killed by alternate version of Carolyn, the embodiment of South Carolina, who had strangled me to within seconds of my life.

I had stabbed her to save myself.

Ignoring the rapid beating of my heart, I tried to push my way past that thought. I lifted my chin and straightened my back.

With Corey appropriately answered, though I knew there would be more to follow (like a scolding for not just picking up a phone and calling), I looked to my other messages. John had asked a couple times if I was alright, to which I responded that I was fine, but then there was one from a number I didn't recognize. I tapped the number. Arabic script. My heart leapt into my throat, tugging ruthlessly at the bruised skin. I didn't quite know how I could make out the script, but I knew what it said. I just knew.

Trust me.

I went still, breath catching in my throat. Egypt. It had to be him. My trembling hands scrolled through the message looking for something more, panic making my movements twitch. Did he know what happened? Trust me. I stared at those words for a long while, trying to work through it. My fingers began to ache with the pressure of my grip on the phone. I trusted Egypt more than I trusted anyone. Did he know that? My fingers slid over the letters, typing out a response. Pressing my lips together, I sent the message away. I could only hope that he would explain his absence. Or give me a reason to believe things would be okay. Or to even believe that it was him who sent the message to begin with.

"Dushenka."

I glanced up, seeing a worn-looking Ivan in the doorway. His lips were turned down into a thoughtful frown. A new atmosphere entered the room with him and I discreetly slipped the phone back into my bag. Russia stayed at the doorway for a moment, taking in every sore movement I made as I rose to my feet.

"You look tired. What's happening out there?" When he didn't respond, I took a step forward. His eyes seemed to widen a bit, as if he were snapping out of some trance. He moved toward me quickly then, rushing toward me as if I would disappear. He roughly pushed tiny (by comparison) chairs out of the way as he approached, causing a clatter. He slowed a few steps from me, hands rising up but not resting on my body. They hovered over my shoulders. He almost looked like he was going to cry. "I-Ivan?"

Brows pulling down, one hand moved to my chin and gently lifted it up. The blanket was pulled a little out of the way by his other hand. He leaned down to inspect the bruises. I held my breath, watching his expression. Rage flickered over his face and I could see what intimidated others, a flash of the power that lurked beneath the enduring smile. I wondered if I should have been scared. After a moment, that rage dissipated into something cold—I watched as ice seemed to freeze a gritted smile into place. "You are strong. They still doubt it." It seemed like a mix between observation and reassurance. I couldn't quite say if he was reassuring me or himself. "She suffered more damage."

"Yeah," I agreed as he released my chin. His hand moved down to pull the blanket back around me, the other hand moving to rest lightly on my shoulder. "Considering I stabbed her and all." That was certainly a sentence I never thought I would say, in this world or the other. "I mean—"

"You are capable of great things when you are backed into a corner." He smiled a little wider. "Desperation is something I know well." Actual humor was there, calm smile firmly in place. "It was desperation that also cracked Spain's skull." I winced and he just laughed, other hand coming to rest on my other shoulder. "Do not worry, Michelle. She will heal in time. You certainly did not kill her."

I decided to avoid saying that I didn't feel at all guilty for injuring her, glancing to the side where my cane was resting against the table. Russia saw my attention waver and released his hold on my shoulders, hands falling to his sides. "What's happening? Have they gotten any leads on Delaware?" I pulled the blanket from my shoulders. The time for resting was over. The best course of action was to work through the problems as they arose. Further idle thinking would accomplish absolutely nothing. I dropped the blanket onto the bed.

My bruised neck was fully exposed as I turned around.

If I thought about the other Michelles and the rest of this mess any further, I was going to drive myself mad.

And I feared that I was halfway there already.

Brushing a hand over the bruises, I shrugged my shoulders a bit and went to grab the sweater from under my bag. Ivan muttered something under his breath in Russian. Then, a pause. "They made me swear not to kill her." He said it so calmly, as if commenting on the décor of the room. As I stiffly pulled the sweater onto my arms, I watched him walk toward the table with a lethal air of casualness. It bordered on a waltz. He gently took hold of my cane, delicately, and waited there at the table, attention caught by the tissues that sat on the tabletop. I was too tired to bother with embarrassment. "I am not a violent person, comrade. Not like everyone imagine. I like the ballet. I like the cooking." He looked up.

I remained where I was, waiting.

"When I hear you were attacked, I was scared—afraid. For the first time in long time. The last time I felt so scared…" His head shook and he looked back down at the table again. His lips pressed together for a moment before his shoulders became less rounded and he stood straighter. "I—broke the little Carolina's arm." My eyes widened in surprise and he continued before I could say anything. "I wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else. I did not control my anger. I did not realize…" He looked to me, as if waiting for something. "And then, snap." The way he said it was…chilling.

My mouth opened and closed. Moving forward, I held my hand out for my cane and took it when he proffered it to me. I turned toward the door then, pausing only momentarily to place my left hand on his chest. He looked down at me. There was so much sincerity in his eyes that I wondered just how I had become privileged enough to see it. With everything I had left in me, I forced a smile. My lips remained closed and my eyes were still tired, but I tried to tell him in the best I could. Even if it didn't reach my eyes, I smiled anyway.

He looked down at me for a moment before nodding, his own close-lipped smile mirroring my own. "Pozhaluysta, dushenka."

What is it about Nations and shouting matches? That was the first idle thought that entered my mind when we stepped into the room. My attention fell immediately upon Germany's weary face as he wiped a hand over his forehead. I could only imagine the headache that he was experiencing with this chaos. He blue eyes flickered my direction and he gave me a short-lived smile, all stress and frustration. There was a vague gesture toward the bickering countries before he shook his head. My own head shook in return, patience already fraying at the grating sound of their raised voices. For a moment, as a passing thought, I found myself a bit stunned at our completely silent conversation. At one time, I was terrified of the very sight of him, but… It appeared Germany realized this as well, his smile becoming a bit more real. That lasted all of two seconds before he visibly winced at the shrill retort Britain lobbed at France. He just sighed and looked away.

"—such a bloody nuisance, I swear!"

"Oui? Let us recall then, who was it that said we should—"

"Dudes, can you just tone it down some? Some of us are trying to get things done!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Two voices together.

Seeing the opportunity, I stepped into the fray. "It means that you're both acting like children."

"Michelle!"

I leaned on the cane, ignoring the tug in my shoulder muscles. I could just imagine Russia looming over my shoulder, a threatening smile on his face. I could practically feel it in the air, especially with the way France grimaced. Three of the Nations visibly recoiled at Ivan's silent threat. Turning, I sent an obviously bewildered Bulgaria a small nod of greeting. "Are you okay?" His expression became confused, brows yanking together as he turned to look back at the wall behind him. When he turned back toward me, he gestured him himself with a questioning expression. "From the attack earlier," I elaborated.

"You didn't ask how we were!"

"If you're able to argue like that, you're fine." America let out a peal of mirthful giggles at my retort. My hand waved Arthur off. I purposefully flicked my gaze down to Bulgaria's wound. He lifted a hand to brush his fingers over the white bandage on his right cheek.

After a moment of surprise, he shrugged and scratched the back of his head. He actually looked a bit sheepish at the attention. "Ah, it's no big deal, you know. I've had worse and besides, Romania got the brunt of it." He gestured to his left, indicating toward a tall brunette. "Buddy, this is Michelle—"

"Daniels." Romania grinned, nodding his head in my direction. "Oh yeah, I've heard all about you. You are shorter than I expected." I bet. He was taller than I expected. He gestured broadly to the whole room, sweeping his arm out. He had an exuberant personality, I realized. His grin was infectious, making Bulgaria smile at his side when he glanced in his friend's direction. "They've been bickering out of concern, I think." He gestured toward the argument. "It's been three hours and they're still going at it.

"Oh, do shut up!"

They were at it again.

Romania just laughed, waving them off. "They are the shy guys, you know?"

"Or actually bickering about something remotely worth our time!" Arthur retorted, crossing his arms. There was definitely a trace of real defensiveness there. Something felt off though. It felt off, but I couldn't place whatever it was that seemed strange. "If any of you had been paying any attention—"

Romania snorted. "No thanks."

"Too loud," Japan quietly commented from where he sat.

"—then you would know that we were discussing our next move!"

"We take the fight to them! Bust in there and take 'em down once and for all!"

"We do not know where they are," Finland pointed out patiently. That seemed to quell the room's energy a bit. He was leaning against the wall on the other side of the meeting area, hands stuffed into his khaki pant pockets. Beside him, Sweden gave a firm nod of agreement. It was almost amusing—no it was amusing— to see him in a light blue knit sweater, when just hours before Carolina had been terrified of him. "We cannot take the fight to them unless we know where they are, America."

Alfred had the decency to nod and smile guiltily. "Right. Maaaybe, I got a little carried away."

"A little carried away?" Arthur's eyes rolled as he sent France a scathing look. Francis, in turn, just rolled his shoulders and fell into a nearby chair, a smirk playing on his lips as if he had won whatever argument they had been embroiled in for the past whatever-amount-of-wasted-time. But…France never gave in to Britain that easily…"A little carried away? We haven't the foggiest idea where they've been taken. Bloody hell, we don't even know if Delaware was taken or went of his own accord. Your Agent Randolph cannot even figure out that much. How in the world do you expect us to find our missing friends with virtually no leads and a stubbornly silent prisoner?" After hearing that, I somewhat I understood Britain's frustration.

So, it seemed nothing had really changed. I was expecting at least some headway to have been made. After all, Alfred and Arthur had sworn to bring me up to date whenever I awoke. If there was nothing new, then why—

"Carolina said the base was in Canada," America responded with a vague gesture in Matthew's direction. "That's what she said, right?"

"I don't think she was being serious," Canada responded with both hands raised. "It seemed more like she was joking. It wouldn't make any strategic sense anyway." He stuffed both hands into his hoodie with finality, giving America a disgruntled look. He looked tired, I thought. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his hair a mess, as if he had been repeatedly dragging his hands through it.

"Ok, so she was probably yanking our chains." Alfred relented with a sigh. "Virginia said that she was checkin' something out before giving me anything solid. Until we hear back from her, we're pretty much trapped here." He looked to me, eyes settling on my neck for a moment before he looked away again, jaw muscles flexing. "Besides, don't we need to figure out how they found us in the first place?"

Silence followed his question. I glanced around the room, feeling Ivan's hand come to the middle of my back. I jumped despite myself. He leaned forward into my vision and gestured toward a chair, smiling all the while. I gave him a questioning look and followed his direction, settling into the chair at Sweden's side. "There's a pattern though, isn't there?" Attention shifted to me and, for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel nervous under their gaze. I kept my back straight and grasped onto the cane's handle as it sat propped in front of me. Turning slightly, though stiffly due to my neck, I looked to Tino. A smile was playing on his lips, a hint of mischievousness there. At least it was good to know that we were on the same page. "You haven't mentioned it yet?"

His lithe shoulders rose and fell. "It isn't as if they would listen to little ol' me anyway. Not right now." That was something that definitely caught me off-guard. Of course they would listen to him. He was stronger than— "If they were thinking logically, they would listen. If they were thinking logically, they would consider everything. Right now, they—" He gestured toward Alfred, Arthur, Francis, and even Matthew. "– are thinking emotionally. They are angry for you. And hurt for you." Beside me, Sweden nodded in agreement.

"Hai," Japan spoke up from his side of the room. "Emotion clouds judgment. Too much anger."

"Oh, c'mon! Don't throw around that 'running chicken, flapping swan' bullhonky!"

China, who had remained silent up until this moment, slapped his book closed and leapt to his feet. I jumped at the suddenness of his movement. He practically growled. "It is Sun Tzu, not Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon! And Art of War is Chinese! Not Japanese!"

"What was that, China?" America egged him on with a large grin, tugging on his own ear. "I couldn't hear you, man."

Finland laughed lightly, earning my attention again. "It is not so bad, I think. If shows they care, yes?"

"It shows something." Germany started his way toward us while China and Alfred continued to rant. A circle was beginning to form, with China and America outside of that forming circle. "It shows that they're emotionally compromised. In this situation, there's no one among us who is emotionally uncompromised now." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Each of us has something at stake. They are supposed to be mature Nations." That last bit sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of that fact. In fact, Romania and Bulgaria grimaced together. It was almost comical, watching as the two glanced between Germany and the arguing Nations he was referring to. Almost as if the two ideas were incompatible.

"Is 'mature' a matter of perspective here? Or just the wishful thinking?" Romania snickered into his hand, nudging at Bulgaria's shoulder. Germany stood a bit straighter, shooting the brunette a glare. "Ah, so…I'll just—Okay." His snickers died away and he gestured toward Alfred and Yao, as if foisting the blame onto them. I didn't blame him either, especially from Germany's expression. "Doamne…"

Even sitting a few feet away from where Germany stood, I could still see him practically shivering with pent-up frustration. His hands were curled into fists and his eyes were closed as his head lowered. He looked the very definition of a man on the edge. Then his eyes opened a bit, he looked at me, and I knew straight away: he was showing restraint because of me. He didn't want me to panic again. There was just something about the way his brows pulled together and the way his mouth curled downward that told me— The panic attack from Oslo was never going to be forgotten. It had deeply affected him in a way that I could never really understand.

And I couldn't say what would trigger me at this point.

Just as I started to nod, signaling that I was prepared for an outburst another voice entered the fray.

"I know! I know! Why don't we just stay here and let Virginia handle all the bad things! I can have some delicious food to us by tonight and we can have a slumber party!" He burst into the center of the circle, flailing his arms and pointing at random objects—a chair, an arm, a painting on the wall. "We can take all of these things and make a fort. A fort in a fortress! It'll be indestructible and we'll be safe from attacks if the bad guys try again." I heard someone snort and the slap of Germany's palm on his forehead. Meanwhile, I just watched as all attention fell on Italy's bright smile. The argument between China and America ceased out of sheer disbelief. "Oh! We can name the bella signora our queen and then we can eat food, sit on cheap furniture, and watch confusing movies about really dark subjects!"

The silence was exactly what Italy had been aiming for, I would bet.

After a long moment, Arthur shook his head and crossed his arms. "Yes, well, that plan is completely out of the question. And we are not declaring her queen, thank you very much." He waved a hand as if batting the idea away.

Italy made a show of deflating as Germany reached out to pull him bodily from the center of the group. He sent me a quick, secretive smile. I let out a huffed laugh, too stunned by the whole exchange to even formulate a coherent thought. After a moment though, I leveled the Brit a sardonic look. The returned expression he gave me held a bit of humor, chin tilting upward in challenge. "I'll be just in all my rulings." I smiled slightly, watching as the corners of his lips twitched.

"Not bloody likely," he returned easily. It was a few scant seconds of lightheartedness, but did wonders for my mentality. He took a few steps away from where France was still sitting in the chair, moving to stand just a few feet in front of me, angling back toward the rest of the crowd.

Finland took that opportunity to everyone back on track. "If you thinking about it, what is a big similarity between me and Romania? Let's not forget Norway."

"Vos histoires sont bizarres?"

Tino gave Francis a dull stare. I couldn't withhold a laugh, blocking it only slightly with a hand. The comment caught me off-guard. For some reason, even in this terrible situation, I felt…lighter. I couldn't explain it. Maybe it was an after-effect of near-death experiences?

"The guy has a point," Romania supplied unhelpfully with a smirk. "We've got some weird stories. You know, I've got this one that involves—"

"Magic," China answered. "They all have magic. Geez, you Westerners know nothing."

"Uh, no." America shook his head. "Magic doesn't exist."

"Will you stop with that load of bullocks already?" Arthur gestured wildly toward me. "Magic is the only thing that explains her presence and this mess we're currently embroiled in. Do catch up." That was an incredibly British way of saying 'shut the hell up.' "That includes me as well, you know. And Finland, you only have seasonal power. There are three full magical Nations: myself, Norway, and—"

"Me." Romania raised a hand.

"They've never gone after Britain though…"

Japan stood from his seat, brushing off the front of his shirt for no reason. He took a few steps from his chair and entered the circle on Norway's other side. It seemed a bit strange, but his movements were so smooth that one would barely notice that there were bigger spaces on the other side of the group. My brows pulled together in question, half-smile falling away. Something was— "Norway was the easiest target and the most logical. He was the one to send Dr.—Michelle here and fix the timeline. Romania was the second most logical as Arthur was—"

"In Tennessee," I spoke up. I looked to Arthur, who nodded. "You were in Tennessee, meeting me."

"Norway, the one to create the globe." Finland explained. "Then perhaps Romania. Then Britain. If they couldn't get Britain..."

"Then they would go after you."

"There is an enemy here."

Sweden's statement was met with silence as the severity of his observation settled over the gathered Nations. I watched as they began to eye each other, each suspecting the next. My eyes flickered to Canada's unruffled expression. He knew. Of course, he knew. He had given me the dagger for a reason. He glanced to me and gave the smallest of nods. And, beside me, Russia continued to exude an aura of menace. He was posturing to appear as the biggest threat in the room, causing other Nations to saddle themselves away from us. Only a few didn't.

His right hand rested on my left shoulder, reassuring me as the Nations continued to eye each other in silence.

"No chance that Carolina will tell us, huh?" America sounded a little bit hopeful that the solution would be that easy. Of course, that was met with a firm negative. He laughed humorlessly. "Just…Ok, fine. So, one of us is a bad guy, right? How do we figure out the culprit, huh? That's gonna be near impossible without hitting a complete standstill on finding the others. That means we can't trust anything or anyone."

Trust me.

Something made my stomach lurch then—a realization. Something told me that this was why Egypt left. He wouldn't be working with the enemies, I knew that like I knew myself. No, Egypt purposefully separated himself from this group because he knew that this would happen, giving him free and clear ability to do his own searching. My stare settled on the concrete floor as I reasoned this out, becoming more and more certain with each passing second. Egypt would never have left without that kind of motivation. And it was only when the report came in of the attack on Finland, Romania, Sweden, and Bulgaria that he separated himself from our group.

Otherwise, I had no doubt—Egypt would have never left my side.

Therefore, it had to be one of them.

My shaking hands tightened on the cane handle. I had to force myself not to look at specific Nations. Instead, I turned slightly to look up at Russia. He smiled down at me, seemingly unperturbed by the glances that were being flung his way.

There was something in the way he smiled and the way his eyes stayed trained on the other side of the assembled group that caught my attention. Russia—Egypt trusted Russia to protect me. Russia had made certain to sit me down next to Sweden and Finland.

That left two.

"They knew where you were as well, non? When you were attacked." Attention shifted to France, who brushed a hand through his hair in a flippant manner. He had reached the same conclusion as me with seemingly half the facts. A smile tugged at my lips. He was one of the greatest empires in history for a very good reason. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, threading his fingers together in front of his lips. "It is one of you four. Though, I am admittedly confident that Finland is not guilty."

"The frog has a point. How else would they know where you all were when you got accosted?"

In my peripheral vision, I saw Canada moving to position himself between the group and the door. A few moments later, China mirrored the action.

"How'd they know where Norway was? Or even Denmark, Iceland, and Belgium?" Romania questioned, brows pulling together in confusion. Beside me, Russia shifted a little. My brows pulled together, observing the way Romania was raising both hands in a placating movement. I noticed the gaps next to him and Bulgaria. Ah…"I mean, yeah, they knew where we were, but they also knew where the others were too. And that museum, right?"

"Only those at the world meeting would know that Denmark, Iceland, and Belgium were travelling together."

Finland waved a hand. "And it wasn't me. And it wasn't Sweden… or Bulgaria."

All attention fell on Romania, who looked surprised. At his side, Bulgaria let out a small laugh in disbelief as the brunette glanced around the group. "What do you mean, it wasn't Sweden or Bulgaria? How can you know that? How can we belief you anyway?" There was no panic in his voice, nothing but a little offense at the implication. "You all are talking about logic but not actually using it. How did you jump to conclusion that it was me? You've done nothing but argue for hours and now you claim it was me? That makes no the sense!"

"Dude, catch!" Something was flung in Romania's direction and he scrambled to catch the object, fumbling it in his hands until it was secure. I looked toward America, who was smirking. Smirking. He pushed his glasses back up his nose before placing both hands on his hips. "Who'd you think I was texting the entire time, man? Obama? Nicki Minaj?" When Romania looked up from the phone's screen, there was actual fear in his eyes. "So, what's the deal, Vlad? You from this alternate reality, too? And who's the fourth person in your little band of miscreants?"

"I didn't know you had such a wide vocabulary, America."

"Shut it, limey."

"How—" Romania's eyes were wide, as if he had not thought for a single moment that he would be caught. Frankly, I was just as shocked myself. How had they been able to figure that it was Romania and why did they— Romania seemed to morph before our very eyes. He glanced toward Bulgaria then slowly straightened his stance. It was almost sickening too see the transformation. His grin disappeared and he glanced this way and that, sizing up his position. "So, this was all a charade? To keep me unaware? "

"Of course," China commented. "You think we'd spend four hours bickering about nothing?" Well… "In such dire straits? Ha! We are not so stupid."

"As for the why," Germany looked at him as if he were the scum of his boots. "The longer we kept you in the dark, the more time we had to put the pieces together."

I looked around at all of the faces aside from Romania's and found nothing but Nations. There were no put-on masks, no jokes, no posturing. Just the cold faces of betrayed countries, each of which looked angrier than the next. Each seemed to stand straighter, look larger, and appear more powerful. Arthur shifted, clasping his hands behind his back. I recognized the stance as one he often took during the war. Alfred was not smiling, not laughing. He stood like a mountain, unmoveable. They were timeless in that moment, shoulder-to-shoulder. It seemed that Romania realized this as well and he let out a breathless laugh.

"Mister Finland suspected you since the attack!" Italy broke the tense silence. "He said that he felt a pulse of magic! It looked like you broke the arm of the big bad guy! It wasn't broken when they attacked here! Mister Sweden fought him. No broken arm! That was the last straw!" Italy stepped a bit into the center of the circle, pointing at Romania with a stern look on his face. "You're not this Mister Romania! You're an imposter! What did you do with our Romania?"

Romania sighed after a long moment. "You make it sound so melodramatic. It's not like I locked him in a dungeon somewhere." I shivered and he shrugged. "Well, no. That's exactly what I did."

"Romania—" Bulgaria took a step away.

The speed with which he threw the cellphone back to America was unbelievable. I almost didn't catch the movement until it was already in Alfred's raised hand. "Security footage, huh? Very cool. I thought you were playing video games the whole time. Angry parakeets or something." He glanced around, gaze never settling on any one Nation for more than a few seconds. "Ok, so…You've got me. I'm not this Romania." This seemed too easy. "I bet you all think you're super smart or something. That's a shame. I took this mission because I knew I could be caught."

"You come from that alternate history, too." Canada stated, catching Romania's attention.

"Sure do. It was me, Texas Republic, and Carolina."

"Who is the fourth person?" Germany growled.

Romania shrugged, raising both hands. "I'll just say this." He took a small step forward and each Nation tensed. Britain physically placed himself in front of me. Russia didn't move, keeping a firm hold on my shoulder as if to keep me in place. "We're going to fix our timeline—the timeline that was ruined by Michelle Daniels." His light brown eyes settled on me with a sickening amount of sincerity. "And we're going to erase her from existence. We're going to fix things back to the way they should have been. There's not a damn thing you can do to stop us."

After a moment, America snorted. "You're giving a typical villain speech. Are you kidding me? Be original."

Next to me, Sweden rose to his feet and approached the brunette. Romania made no moves to escape, obviously knowing that it was a lost cause. Canada remained in his position by the door while China and France moved to grab an arm and twisting it behind the imposter's back. "A human has died because of you." Sweden's words were said in such a low tone that I could barely hear him.

"Humans die every day because of us." I couldn't see the expression on Sweden's face, but his head jerked toward the door. China gave Romania's arm an unnecessarily violent jerk and they guided him toward the open doorway, where Canada stood with his arms crossed. As he was being pulled from the room, Romania looked back over his shoulder to smile in Bulgaria's direction. "It was good to see you again, buddy. The last time I saw you, I—"

When the door finally closed, it seemed like the whole room deflated. Each of the Nations lost their postures and slouched where they stood, taking easier breaths and sighing in relief. Finland fell into the seat beside me before cradling his head in his hands. Alfred strode to the other side of the room, leaned back against the concrete wall and slid down. He looked almost petulant in the way he did it, lips pursed and brows furrowed. It was clear from the way they all seemed to be so exhausted that the past three or four hours had really been an act. The only one that didn't lose his energy bounded up to me and landed on his knees.

"Italy, she's—"

"I bet you're super, super confused!" It was said in such a chipper tone that I almost missed the close-eyed glare that seemed to be directed toward Russia, who just laughed. "Mister Russia was supposed to explain what happened when he went to get you! That way you wouldn't be so lost when you saw what was happening!" Attention shifted to Russia, who merely shrugged. His hand disappeared from my shoulder and I could see a couple of the Nations cringe.

"I got distracted," Ivan explained cheerily.

Italy jostled my hands, making me look down at him. "It's been all very interesting! We figured out that the Romania that came to the meeting wasn't the same Romania!" He smiled broadly, pointing in Alfred's direction. "The pretty State lady said that this Romania was acting strange in the security footage! So we checked it out! Romania apparently went missing a few weeks ago before appearing again in Bucharest! No one noticed anything except Bulgaria, 'cause they were going to have dinner when Romania disappeared!" I heard Bulgaria make a surprised sound and I glanced his direction.

"It—What—We're under surveillance?"

"Everyone is under surveillance." Britain waved him off. "Each Nation has their actions monitored. During that time before Romania disappeared, he was inherently familiar with his capital. This Romania was often lost. When he visited New York for the meeting, he entered the annex through the wrong door. That's what caught Randolph's attention. No one noticed because we were all so concerned with Norway."

"Caught him off-guard enough to get their aim though." Alfred commented from where he sat on the floor.

"To go back and make Michelle disappear," Tino voiced. "That would mean that they intend to use the globe to send themselves back into the history of this world, her origin, perhaps making sure that Michelle never existed? Or that she is never forced into their realm in the first place."

"Romania being involved certainly makes sense on that front as well. If one considers the amount of magical energy it would take to transfer three Nations to an alternate universe? Romania likely performed that magic. Now that they seek to move back in time, they needed to acquire more magical energy. Who better than Norway? I cannot deny that I was potentially a target as well."

Shifting a little, I felt a flush of pride as I looked around the room. No matter the fact that they all looked utterly exhausted, it seemed as if…by some miracle…they had worked together to figure this out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Germany settle into one of the stiff armchairs. He let out a sigh, brushing his hand over his face. He looked my direction and gave a nod.

"So, you all figured this out in the four hours I was asleep?"

"Before that," Alfred shrugged. "Most of us figured it out during the attack. Our location was a secret. Finland suspected Romania, which is why he sent Sweden and Bulgaria to us. Finland figured, ya know, that he could probably take Romania on if push came to shove." After a moment, Alfred grinned and gestured in Finland's direction. "Shit man, you're like wicked smart. I couldn't believe it when Virginia called me about the security footage."

Finland gave a jaunty wave, smiling happily. "I wanted to check the theory before I went around throwing accusations. Looks like I was right! And Agent Randolph likes me anyway. I discovered her back in the day!" He turned in his seat, a hand coming to rest on my upper arm. "That was why I spoke to you about a possible attack in the stairwell. I can understand if you did not catching the hints. Sweden always says I'm too subtle and then you got a lot of shocks!" That was why he came to me immediately, why he mentioned the magic. It was why he mentioned that the base could be attacked, that they could try again.

Everything was starting to click into place. Romania was taken before Norway had been abducted, replaced by an imposter Romania from this alternate universe. "And there's a fourth person?"

"With Romania and Carolina here and two attackers on this base, that is what makes sense. We know that one is the Texas Republic. The big guy."

Silence fell over the group, thoughtful and tired silence.

"How are you feeling?"

I looked down at Italy's eyes, realizing that he still had a hold on my hands. "A little confused, I'll admit. It's a lot to catch up with, but I—It's…I'm impressed everyone could work together like this." I peered around the room, seeing that their faces, although obviously tired, also held smiles. Proud smiles. "With as much as everyone argues, I didn't expect you to have actually—"

"Accomplished something? We had reason to," Arthur said, giving me a purposeful look. A couple others nodded. "We have watched you nearly die twice now, perhaps three times in some cases." He glanced in Germany's direction and I felt Italy's grip tighten. "It's high time that we set aside our differences and work together. Otherwise, we will never accomplish anything. Anyway, if they have Norway and Romania…" The lingering threat was still very palpable, no matter what headway had been made.

If their goal was to remove the other Michelle before any damage could be done, then I really had no choice, did I? No matter how much I wanted to keep these other realities a secret, I couldn't. Not when I had awakened to a group of men willing to do what it took to stop this. I looked over to where Alfred sat, arms resting on his knees. He was watching me carefully, probably seeing the way my expression kept changing.

If I told them my theories, the way I felt about these…other Michelles… then what?

If I told them…

I felt something brush my chin and I looked down again, surprised by Italy's critical eyes. He gently pushed my chin up to get a better view of the bruises. Angry purple-blue; there was even some red splotching the skin. I knew what they looked like. I reached up to pull his hand away and smile down at him, grateful for the apologetic light in his eyes. The room was quiet, some observing Italy's movements. Some were staring into nothing.

And I found my resolve somewhere in that silence.

"She didn't lose him," I said at last. I was very careful not to let my voice quiver. Everyone turned to me and I held tightly to Italy's hand. My eyes closed and I let out a sigh. "That's why. That's why she broke. She didn't lose him. I did. I was the one at home. They handed me the flag. I heard the gunshots and the trumpet." I opened my eyes and ignored the tears. Mostly because they were justified. They were strong tears. I wasn't ashamed of them. My attention turned toward America, who seemed to be desperately grasping at his composure. I couldn't understand why though. Maybe it was because I was struggling for control? For all that I knew America though, I didn't know him well enough to read that expression. I never would. "That Michelle…" My head shook and I pressed my lips together, raising my chin. "She didn't lose him. She didn't lose Jessie."

They were silent.

"Lose who?" Arthur's voice was distant.

My head shook and I couldn't quite find the strength to explain. I swallowed and not one of the tears in my eyes fell. "It—It made her different. That Michelle didn't have same life experience as me. She was a totally different person. Losing her grandfather, not losing… It changed her. It changed her entire person." I kept my eyes trained on Alfred though. "I lost Jessie and I didn't realize how much it…how much it changed me. How strong it made me. Losing him, made me into…into someone who could withstand. It made me strong. And I never…I never realized it."

I nodded my head a couple times, reaching a conclusion. My eyes traced over the worn linoleum tiles and the tears finally left my eyes entirely. The Nations remained quiet as I worked up the courage to say my peace. When I looked up again, I made an effort to look at each one.

"I can't care! I can't. Her or any of the other Michelles sucked into worlds they can't understand. I can't bring myself to—And maybe it's selfish. No, I know it is! I just can't." My stomach was twisting into knots, angry and writhing knots. I was shaking, terrified by the fact that I had just admitted that I'd rather leave these other people to die in ways that I couldn't even fathom. I was leaving that Michelle to her fate. The Michelle of HetaOni to her fate, her repetitive and painful fate. The countless others to their fates. All because I couldn't endure the idea of— "I—I can't, but that's why. She's not me. She's not me. She's never…There's no way I can—" Italy's fingers tightened around mine and I focused on him, tearing my gaze away from Alfred.

"Bella signora…" He smiled before rising to his feet, pulling me up with him. His hands released my own and came to my shoulders. There was something about the understanding in his eyes that made the nervous energy that had been eating away at me for hours just flutter away. Before I could say anything, I was pulled into his arms and my face was pressed against his shoulder. "It's okay, you know? You don't have to be strong all the time! So, now we just hug." I couldn't say that everything was suddenly fixed or was turned around by that embrace. And it seemed so…like such a normal reaction to an extraordinary situation. Maybe that was the point of it.

There was no real solution that anyone could offer.

There was no way to fix it.

And there was no escaping it.

He wasn't telling me that everything would work out or be alright.

Or that I was right or wrong.

Italy went with the only gesture that might offer comfort and I grasped to him as if he were the embodiment of my only lifeline. I smiled into his shoulder and screwed my eyes shut, taking deep breaths of olive oil and fresh bread. And I just had to keep breathing. That was it, right? I just had to keep going. A moment later, I felt one of his arms unwrap from my back and I lifted my head to look toward where Feliciano was opening the embrace. When my blurred sight cleared, I saw a very disgruntled Nation glaring us down. Arthur. His arms were crossed and chin raised in defiance. I felt a smile pull at my lips.

Italy giggled and made a grabbing motion. I actually laughed. "C'mon! C'mon! Group hug!"

"Oh bugger off!"

Author's Section:

Woo. Oh man. That took forever to write. It hits so many things that I wasn't sure if I would get it all into the chapter. Russia. Romania. The other Michelles. Sorry that it has been such a long time since my last update! I hope everyone is well! I've been working hard this semester and barely have time to write. I wanted to get this up before the chaos of the last half picks up. The next chapter might take a while as well!

Thank you everyone for your wonderful support! It means so much to me. Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites, follows, and private messages! And art! If you want to see the awesome artwork done for this story, please head over to my Tumblr and go to the fanart link! I am so proud of the art that has been done for this story!

Please leave me some feedback and thoughts! Thank you for reading!