Chapter 35~ Don't worry, we'll get back to England, Laura, Germany, Italy and Markus, etc. Just not now. XD We still have a plot to work, here...
The ceiling didn't look at all familiar.
Nathan stared up at it for a record-breaking ten minutes before he registered what should have been a second-nature type setting. A hospital. He felt cold, but he either couldn't feel his limbs, or couldn't move them.
He wasn't entirely sure.
Nathan tilted his head as far as he could to one side, until a bandage taped to his face contacted the pillow and stopped him. Everything seemed…weird and surreal. Like, he could see it, but if he tried to touch it (if he could move) it would dissolve or something.
Nathan tried to turn his head again, but gravity was against him this time, and a sharp twinge in his neck, at the base of his skull, stopped him short. This twinge triggered a headache, and Nathan squeezed his eyes shut. When this only made the pain worse, he opened his eyes and groaned.
"What the hell…." He muttered sloppily. Even his jaw hurt, now…
"Nathan?" Another familiar sight entered his field of view. America smiled in relief. "Thank God you're awake….you gave the paramedics a real scare." He chuckled, trying to hide the fact that he'd been scared as well. The nation pulled up a chair beside the hospital bed and sat down. "…..so….how do you feel?" He asked, feeling somewhat obligated to ask, despite talking with a nurse not twenty minutes before.
"….like I got hit by a truck…" Nathan muttered. He tried to move, and managed to get one arm up across his stomach. Even though he couldn't entirely feel the limb, the added weight ensured its existence, and gave the young man a much-needed change…however small. "…everything hurts…." America smiled gently.
"The morphine must've worn off." He replied. "The nurses say you're due for another one in twenty minutes. That should take the edge off." He patted his son's hair gently. "You're recovering pretty fast…by the time paramedics arrived, you looked way better, and I can take you home in a day or two." Nathan blinked slowly, just now realizing why everything looked so fuzzy.
"…..where're my glasses….?" He asked. America chuckled.
"Somewhere in a field in Pennsylvania…" He replied. "They were missing when we found you…." He trailed off. "…like I said, I'll get you a new pair, 'kay?" He smiled at his son, whose grip on reality seemed just a tad off right then. "And don't worry about the men who hurt you…" America's smirk seemed a few shades darker than usual then. "We took care of them, Russia and I. And Konrad. He helped too." Nathan smiled woozily.
"Ehehehh…..I thought he w's in….Berlin….?" He trailed off with a soft sigh. "God, this hurts…." America frowned.
"Don't worry…the nurse should be in any second." Not a minute later, the door opened to admit the nurse with a dosage of morphine. Nathan closed his eyes as she inserted the needle into the IV line in his hand. He really didn't want to watch that.
It felt like ice-water in his veins, at first. He could feel it spreading up his arm and shoulder, and then it warmed up. The warmth turned into a heavy tingling feeling, and the pain he felt all over quickly faded away. This left behind plenty of exhaustion - he probably shouldn't have been moving earlier - and Nathan decided not to try and reopen his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh instead.
America patted his son's hair as he drifted off again. The nurse removed the needle and capped it again. She gave America a small smile before she left, and the room lapsed into silence. The young nation sat back and stared at the figure on the hospital bed. He was covered in bandages nearly head to toe, had several stitches that, despite his increased healing ability, would probably scar…
…and that damned Russian "a" still hadn't gone away. It was burned into Nathan's skin - an ugly red brand forever mocking his failure to protect his son. America frowned. He preferred to handle problems on his own…but this problem wasn't something that effected just him. Therefore, he couldn't be the only one to deal with it. A smirk grew on the American's face. He didn't have to handle this alone. He had fifty others - at least! - who would be glad to help!
And it was about time Nathan met his half-sibling states anyway.
"Get up." He was kicked again. "This isn't kindergarden - you don't get a recess." Nathan whimpered and tried to curl into a ball to protect his aching ribs.
"C-come on…" He pleaded. "I-I can get the money….h-however much Alexi wants…." His tormentor laughed, and picked up something that was leaning against the wall.
"How cute." They walked back over to the shivering Nationling. "But this isn't about money anymore." The cold end of an iron rod pressed against his throat, then tilted his head up. "This is about something much more…..intriguing." The person stepped closer, but Nathan still couldn't see their face in the blurry darkness. "How many others are there?"
"L-look…" Nathan stammered, wincing as he shifted, trying to get weight off a broken ankle. "I-I know I'm not the only one in debt, b-but-AGH!" The iron rod was whipped back and slammed against his jaw, skipping down to slam his chest and throw him to the floor.
"Idiot child." The voice hissed. "You know that isn't what I meant." Nathan groaned, trying to fight back tears with no success. His jaw was burning and throbbing, and it was starting to hurt to breathe. The iron rod was pressed to his stomach, and someone leaned on it, driving the wind out of the poor boy. "How many others are there?"
"I d-…don't know….wh-what you're….t-talking about…." Nathan choked. The voice growled impatiently and withdrew the iron rod. Moments later, it was swung full-force into his side.
"Listen, child…" The voice suddenly switched to a much more friendly tone, circling around the crying, shaking victim. "I'm not interested in hurting you. Just answer my question truthfully, and I'll stop." The rod slid back under his chin, tilting and pinning Nathan's head to the cold ground.
"But lie…" The angle was decreased, and Nathan started choking. "And I'll make you wish you had died on the tracks of that freight train." The voice hissed, once again as cold and frightening as the demon it belonged to. Nathan gasped and struggled.
He couldn't breathe. His body ached all over, he wished he couldn't feel his legs, and he couldn't even move enough to writhe in pain. He'd suffered before, but not like this. Not ongoing pain that came and went in waves. For the first time in years, Nathan actually felt afraid for his life. Stop. Stop. Make it stop. Make it stop, make it STOP!
The rod was lifted off his neck at long last, and Nathan gasped for air, coughing and writhing weakly as his expanding lungs jostled broken ribs. "Now…." The voice sounded closer, as if it had crouched down to the prisoner's level. "How many other are there?"
"…..h-hundreds…." Nathan whimpered. The voice seemed to smile,
"Good boy…" A light hand mockingly patted his hair. "Now….let's get specific….."
Nathan woke up with a sense of panic. He sat up in the hospital bed, heart racing and covered in a cold sweat. Dimly, he heard the heart monitor beside the bed beeping frantically in time with his own heart. "O-oh God…" He whimpered, the nightmare - or, as he now recalled, the memory - still fresh in his mind. "Wh-….what've I done…?"
"Nathan?" America's hand lightly touched his son's shoulder and tried to lay him back. "What are you doing? You can't be moving yet-"
"Dad, I-I'm so sorry!" Nathan spun around and smacked heads with America. Both withdrew with a yelp of pain. America dropped back in the chair, while Nathan collapsed back on the bed, unable to sit up any longer.
"Ow…" America rubbed his forehead. "Sorry for….what?" Nathan groaned, fighting unconsciousness for a moment. The adrenaline from the nightmare-memory was fading, and with it, his burst of energy.
"I….I told them…" His voice cracked and tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad…." Nathan started to cry. "I'm so sorry…" America stood up, headache forgotten.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Nathan," He frowned. "You told who what?" Nathan whimpered.
"Th-the Bratva…..I….I told them about us…a-about you…..about Laura….Konrad…..Arthur….and Feliciano…" His shoulders started to shake. "Everyone…..e-even the little kids…..I d-didn't mean to….." Nathan started to cry. "I-I just wanted them to stop…"
"H-hey, easy…" America leaned in and gingerly hugged his son, trying to hold him like a paper doll that might crumble. "Easy…don't cry….it….it's okay…." Nathan shook his head weakly, outright sobbing now.
"I'm sorry…." His voice was weak, fueled by breath that was restricted by broken ribs and stabbing pains. "I didn't mean to! I….I swear….I j-….I just wanted it all to stop…." America carefully tightened his hold, just enough to make his son feel secure.
"I know…." He whispered. "I know…..it's not your fault…." He held his son until Nathan wore himself out, which didn't take long, and fell asleep once more. America wiped the last few tears off his son's face, and sat back in the chair. After several long moments of silence, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Arthur, we have to talk."
Thank you to all the faithful readers who've stayed with me through this long chapter-drought. XD You are rewarded for your patience with some American father-son fluff and DRAMA! Also, a test topic for "Children of the Nations" has been posted on my Hetalia forum "Hetalia: RP for the World". If you are interested, please check it out!