Translations at end.

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing... not healing, not curing... that is a friend who cares."

-Henri Nouwen

Steinman's eyes widened as the last of the dust cleared. People don't just interrupt him when he's working!

He locked eyes with the girl. She narrowed her eyes in determination.

"UGLY!" he roared, rearing back, and he dropped his scalpel. It clattered to the floor. He backed-up to the support beam in the middle of the room and stared at the abominations that dared come inside his palace while he was working. No one moved as Steinman backed away. "I'm sorry, Aphrodite! I failed you!" he wailed and picked up his box of grenades. He pulled one out. "I'm sorry! I'll fix them right up," he snarled, throwing the grenade. It sailed through the air and landed with a thud in front of the imperfect specimens he wouldn't be able to fix, make perfect. They were so ugly! Too ugly for him to even fix. Such a waste!

The invading group struggled to figure out what to do with the ticking bomb, and only managed to take some very basic cover before it exploded. Steinman cackled and made his retreat into Rapture. Another day, he'd be back to finish his work.

Alfred watched the short confrontation take place, figures swimming in and out of his vision. It was hard to focus on being worried. It didn't matter, right? What was there to be afraid of? It was only a small explosion. He'd survived worse. Right? He had, hadn't he?

The room shook, vision whiting out, and the table flipped over, bonds melting free. On his cheek there was liquid that was oozing from what he thought was his ear. He couldn't be sure. Everything felt soft. Where was that buzzing coming from? He slowly curled up on the floor, body barely taking commands. Why couldn't he hear anything? Softness gave way to burning and pain. He pushed his hands over his ears. Oh fuck, what was going on? It hurt, oh god, it hurt! Make it stop, please god, make it stop.

Hands were touching him, uncurling his form, turning him over, prodding his side. He begged and tried pushing them away. Why couldn't he calm down? Where was the blissful feeling? He wanted that back. This world was pain and suffering.

A needle pierced the haze in his head figuratively and literally in his neck. The injected liquid felt warm, and the burning in his skin dulled a small amount. Everything stopped being so painful. It was nice. He could stay like this. This…floaty feeling. Thank you mysterious needle. Darkness tugged at the dregs of his mind and a gentle patting on his head put him right out.

America finally blacked out and Lena leaned back, dropping the calming agent onto the ground.

"Now that that's taken care of, Italy, you carry him," she declared. He startled from his place petting Alfred's head.

"Why me?" he asked.

Lena huffed. "You're the most useless, so you get to carry the dead weight."

Italy pouted but put his wrench/flag into his bag and heaved America over his shoulder. Japan handed Italy a pair of surprisingly intact glasses, and Italy pocketed them. The American's bomber jacket was stuffed into Italy's backpack.

They picked their way out of the Medical Pavilion, steering clear of the main hallways towards someplace safe.

"What if he wakes up and tries to kill me?" Italy asked, adjusting the man.

Germany sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Lena shrugged. "He'll probably be too weak to do any attacking. He's had a lot of drugs pumped into him."

Italy adjusted America again in response. Even though she could tell he was worried, he had a determination in his eyes that he would protect his friend no matter what. Lena looked away before she could feel jealous. What was there to be jealous about? She was happy down here. Alone.

The five Nations continued in silence. Lena led them through a destroyed general's store and into the the back room hidden behind a large cabinet wedged in front of a door.

This was one of the few safe houses she had spread around the city. Her least favorite, but still safe. Her favorite, and most used, was her workroom in Arcadia.

Italy set America on the floor, folding up his bomber jacket to use as a pillow. He placed the glasses onto America's face.

"Sumimasen, Lena-san," Japan said, "but where are we?"

Lena pulled open the fuse box on the wall and turned on the single bulb on the ceiling. It didn't help much. "Somewhere safe from Splicers." She glanced at America and Germany. "Well, Splicers that aren't Countries. We're gonna heal your friend, rest a bit, then we're going to figure out how to get you all out of the city."

Italy sat next to Germany on the floor and took his hand. Germany shut his eyes, other hand in a tight fist, and lips pursed. He looked like he was trying not to punch Italy. Probably didn't remember who his little lover was again.

"Will you be able to heal them?" Italy asked.

"The physical injures, yes. You have some First Aid Kits. Those can heal most things. We should let America burn those drugs out of his system before we try and introduce anything else, though. Don't know what would happen if we didn't."

"What about…Atlas said he'd be addicted to EVE no matter what," Italy said.

Lena shrugged. "It's just a normal drug. Sure, excessive usage causes deformities and whatever fuck else is going on, but I'm pretty sure he was lying. Withdrawal is way more intense since you've changed your DNA in a pretty big way, but without any new EVE, they should go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can, what with the DNA change and all, like I said."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Japan asked.

Lena turned to him. "I don't know. I'm not a scientist or a doctor. Purge them, I guess?" She shrugged again. "Don't know how to do that. I don't do magic shit. We're pure science down here. That's your problem."

She didn't know if they did magic, either, and it wasn't her concern. Italy nodded and rubbed Germany's arm in comfort. "And the memory problems?"

"Listen," Lena said, fed up with all the question. "I have never seen someone fully detox from EVE. The scientists tried to force someone to stop and they killed themselves midway through the withdrawal. I have no idea if the memory problems will stop. I don't even know if they'll survive detox, except for the fact that they can't die."

"…Right."

Japan reached out for Italy's hand and squeezed it in comfort. "We should get some sleep while we can," he said.

Lena pulled some blankets out of a box and handed them out. "No matter what your opinion of me and of Rapture is, you are safe in this room. Don't worry, " Lena reassured. She took her blanket and curled up into a ball in the far corner. She didn't shut her eyes just yet, watching the three talk.

Italy rested his head on Germany's shoulder, snoring in seconds. Lucky bastard.

"I'm losing myself, Kiku," Germany whispered, "I can feel myself slipping away. All I want to do is hurt you all. It's taking everything I have to prevent Feli from seeing that. What if I go through withdrawal and I still can't remember anything. What if I still want to hurt him?"

Japan locked eyes with Germany. "Feliciano-san and I will do everything we can to prevent either of those things from happening. Remember the times we spent together on the training ground? How you and I would be the only ones there and Itaria-san would only show up if Igirisu-san started chasing him." Germany closed his eyes and fell asleep to Japan's tales of their training sessions. He allowed himself a small smile and followed his companions into a light sleep.

Lena stayed up, staring at the unlikely group of Countries still in her home. They were such a goddamn weird bunch. She would be glad to be rid of them. Tomorrow.

Francis sighed and ran a hand down his exhausted face. It had only been two days since he arrived in Iceland and he was no closer to finding any new information than when he started.

The maps in this general store did tell him where the other docks in the area were, but this is the area where he dropped Feliciano off. He groaned and buried his head in his hands. That was so stupid! Why'd he let him go?

"Afsakið, þarftu hjálp?" a female voice asked gently.

Francis looked over to her. It was the cashier, looking concerned that he was crying over maps.

"Fyrirgefðu," he replied, then continued in English. "It's been a rough day." Francis didn't know much Icelandic. Usually a Country knew their main languages and any regional dialects. However, if they wanted to know one that wasn't commonly spoken in their home, they had to learn it the old fashioned way. English was something everyone picked up fairly quickly, if they didn't know it already.

The girl nodded. "I know English. How can I help?"

"I lost my friend. He got on this boat a few weeks ago and I haven't heard from him since."

She looked concerned. "Do you know where he was going? You could look up the boat manifests."

"I've tried that. There's no record anywhere."

She hummed and went back behind her desk, gesturing for him to follow. "Where was he going?"

"A place called Rapture." She froze. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

"There are…rumors. Boats that do not come back. Strange blinking lights in the middle of the ocean. Planes going to the middle of the ocean and never returning to shore."

"How do I get there?" he asked, desperate, leaning towards her.

"To where they disappear? You want to go where boats are not coming back?" She looked at him like he was crazy.

"Oui!"

She worried her lip for a moment and took out a scrap of paper, writing an address down.

"This man…he said he came from a new world. We thought he meant America, but he does not have an American accent. His stories make no sense. Looming buildings, glass tunnels, lavish living, but also hulking men in diving suits and glowing drugs."

"That sounds insane."

"I know. I cannot recall him naming this place in his retellings, but he does talk about the 'rapture' a lot."

Francis took the paper. "Maybe telling the name by not telling it."

"Kannski. I am sorry I cannot help you more."

"You've been a great help. Þakka þér!" he said and ran out the door. He had a lead!

"Verðu þér góður!"

Sumimasen: Excuse me

Itaria: Italy

Igirisu: England

Afsakið, þarftu hjálp?: Sorry, do you need help?

Fyrirgefðu: Sorry

Qu'est-ce que c'est?: What is it?

Oui!: Yes

Kannski: Maybe

Þakka þér!: Thank you!

Verðu þér góður!: You're welcome!