Chapter 4

Denmark wakes to his 7:30 alarm clock.

It's not a nice alarm. It's a sharp and loud continuing stream of "Beep beep beep", which, if used for long enough, is bound to make anyone go insane.

Denmark groans and fumble for his phone. Still drowsy, it takes him a couple of tries before he finally manages to end the shrill alarm. Immediately after the room is engulfed in a deafening silence, which is almost worse than the alarm. At least with the alarm, he could keep his thoughts at bay. Denmark groans again. He doesn't particularly want to get up. They probably won't notice I'm gone anyway; he sadly thinks to himself.

As much as Denmark thinks this to be the truth, he knows that he can't stay in the room all day, so he climbs out of bed with as much dignity as a truly exhausted man can muster. He dresses quickly. On with the pants, shirt, tie, shoes and a fake smile to greet the real world. At the cafeteria, he grabs a big cup of coffee before making his way to the meeting room. He's not the first one there, he realizes. Germany, being an early riser, is already there together with Japan, Switzerland, India, and a handful of other nations. It doesn't take long before more nations come in and find their seats.

Denmark contemplates whether he can sneak out of the room and go back to bed, but before he can finish this trail of thought, he is interrupted by a small figure almost knocking the wind out of him.

"Uncle Mathias!"

The small figure turns out to be Peter, who deliberately had run into Denmark's midpoint and is now busy with squeezing the life out of the older nation.

Denmark gasps and huffs. For such a small nation, Peter certainly has a lot of strength. He figures that he doesn't mind that much though. It's a small comfort, which gives him hope that someone actually cares about him.

"Hey, kid. Ready for today?" he asks as soon as Peter loosen his grip at him. Peter nods and starts to say something, but is interrupted by Sweden, who gently nudges him over to his seat. The other Nordics have already found their seats and doesn't bother saving Denmark a seat. Slightly disappointed, Denmark finds the only remaining seat beside Netherlands and plumbs down in the chair.

Everyone is finally seated, and excitement floods the room. Germany, feeling well rested and just as curious as the others, orders everyone to be quiet. Not long after, the screen glows and the voice begin to read.

Chapter 3… Sealand wakes in the morning to the sound of muffled coughing.

He stifles and yawn and rolls over onto his side, his cheek pressed against Denmark's arm, and looks up at him as he shifts out of the covers. Denmark is on his back, eyes closed, and has a hand placed lightly over his lips, his other trapped under Peter as the boy rubs the sleep from his face and props himself up onto his elbows.

"Are you okay?"

Denmark blinks groggily and offers him a wane smile, his hand dropping to ruffle his hair. "Yeah, fine. Just swallowed wrong is all." Denmark sighs.

"It's still early. You can sleep for a while longer if you want to."

Peter shakes his head and rests his chin back down on Denmark's shoulder. "No, I'm awake." He peers up at him when he turns his head and coughs again. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Denmark just grins and mushes Sealand's head into the pillow. "I told you, I'm fine. You ain't gotta worry about me."

Already, Iceland begins to grow uneasy. He knows this Denmark. The Denmark who pretends that everything is fine, when in reality, everything is not fine. In the story, Sealand seems to have caught on as well, as he squirms out from under Denmark and huffs indignantly.

"I'm not worried! I'm just asking." His eyes flit to briefly meet Denmark's. "It's just 'cause Berwald used to say you're too stupid to ask for help is all. So, you know…" He looks down. "Don't be stupid."

"Easier said than done" Iceland hears Norway grumble under his breath. Iceland sighs. He knows his brother means well, but sometimes he can be a bit harsh with his use of words. Denmark, who is sitting only a few seats away from Norway, pretends not to have heard the Norwegians hurtful words, and diverts his attention back to the screen.

Denmark's face softens and he pushes himself up enough to sit against the wall. "Hey, I'm here aren't I?" He nudges Peter's arm, smirking. "You ever heard the saying 'too stupid to give up'?"

Sealand nods. "He said that about you too."

He laughs and scrubs a hand down his face. "Yeah," he says softly, pushing his hair back. "I'm sure he did."

Norway frowns. There's oddness in the way the Dane is described in the novel. He sounds exhausted and vulnerable, so unlike the strong person, he knows. Norway listens as the voice reads on.

"Listen, Peter, I want you to come with me." Denmark jerks his head in the direction of the door. "I can't stay here, but I don't want to leave you with these people. They obviously aren't taking care of you and I don't trust them to keep you safe."

Peter wipes his eyes. "I d-don't need anyone to take care of me. I'm old enough to look out for myself." He sniffs.

Oh Peter, Tino sighs, there's so much you don't know yet. He looks at his adoptive son, who's wrapped up in the storytelling. Sealand hasn't lost his childish imagination, and deep down, Tino hopes that he never loses it.

He's grateful when Denmark suggests that Peter should come with him, and even more so when he treats Peter as a peer rather than a small child.

"It's even more dangerous out there and I know I'm probably not as fun as I used to be, but I can't just leave you here." He smirks and claps his palm against Peter's back. "If you come with me, I can at least keep an eye on you while you look out for yourself."

Some of the nations chuckle at this statement. It's sweet, Belgium thinks to herself, how careful and gentle Denmark acts over for Sealand. It reminds her of her own brother.

Sealand folds his hands in his lap and looks at Denmark curiously. "You said you were in Italy before right? And now you're here, so…" he frowns. "Where are you going?"

Denmark bows his head slightly and sighs. "Ah. Well, I'm trying to get back home, I guess."

"You're going to Sweden?"

Denmark nods. "That's the plan."

"But…don't you want to go home? Your home, I mean."

Denmark's jaw sets and he stares down at the map in his hands. "There isn't anything left," he says gruffly. "Half of my land is under water and the rest of it is too burnt out to be livable. I don't have anything to go back to."

Denmark swallows thickly, and many nations give him sympathetic looks. The loss of a nation's homeland is unimaginable pain. Prussia knows this too well.

"Anyway, my plan is to go through Poland. There isn't any fuel left, so none of the old civilian barges are going out anymore, but there's a rumor floating around in a few shelters that there is still someone running a boat out of Slupsk. Nobody wants to give me a straight answer, but I've heard from more than a few people that the guy doing it has a stupid way of talking."

A stupid way of talking. That sounds familiar, Lithuania thinks to himself. He glances over at Poland, who's oblivious to the fact that they might be talking about him. Only when Peter mentions his name, does he perk up.

Peter's eyes widen. "Do you think it's Felix?"

"Could be. Point is, there's a chance someone is still seaborne. And the water is too unpredictable now to take a rowboat, so my plan is hinging on this guy actually existing." He exhales loudly. "If he doesn't, then I'm not quite sure what to do next." He smirks. "Probably swim or something."

Norway scoffs. That sounds exactly like something Denmark would do. That is why he is not exceptionally surprised when he learns that Denmark has been walking all the way.

Denmark clicks his tongue. "I've just been walking."

Netherlands whistle, very much impressed by Denmark, and claps his friend (the real Denmark) on his shoulder. His dazzlement, however, is amplified when he learns that Denmark had walked all the way from Messina.

Peter gasps. "What? How did you wind up in Messina?"

Denmark shrugs. "Same way you got here. One of the civilian envoys picked me up. I don't remember much about getting there though."

Peter shakes his head and draws his knees up to his chin. "I guess." He hugs his legs and stares at his feet. "So, how come you want to go to Malmö?"

Denmark is quiet for a moment before he shifts his hips up and reaches into his pocket. "I don't want you to get your hopes up, but I'm trying to find everyone else. Malmö is a good starting point and as long as the flooding hasn't gotten worse, I'll be able to get to Norway and Finland from Sweden."

Norway lets the information sink in. He's trying to find us. He's trying to find me. He glances over at Denmark, expecting to find a dumb smile on his face, but is yet again shocked by Denmark's character. A sorrowful, almost pained expression is slapped across Denmark's face. He's biting his lips, a tell-tale sign that he's worried. It's not an expression that Norway has seen on Denmark often. The Norwegian, noticing that he has been staring, quickly tears his eyes away from Denmark and lets his gaze fall down on the desk in front of him. He ponders about Denmark's demeanor for a little while longer until he pushes the worrying thoughts all the way to the back of his mind, and instead makes an effort to listen to the story.

"You think they're alive?"

"They've all got mountains and remote places to hide. My whole kingdom's flat as a ship biscuit but I still scraped by." He withdraws his hand and sits back down. "'sides, Berwald knows if I made it out and he didn't, I'd never stop giving him hell for it."

Sweden and Denmark glance over at each other. A chuckle burst through Berwald's lips and Denmark smirks.

"But…" Peter bites his lip. "Someone told me Scandinavia was gone and that it was impossible to go back to Sweden. What makes you so sure?"

The voice goes on to explain how Denmark had woken up in Italy with none of his belongings. He had to search around and pick clothes off of dead men, and when he did, he discovered something of great value. Norway's hairpin.

Norway gasps softly at the description of the cross-shaped pin and instinctively throws his hand up to his hair, where the small hairpin is safely secluded between blond strings of hair. He fondles it and listens closely as the voice explains how Denmark had found the pin.

"The guy who had it came in on the same boat as me. I asked his sister about it and she said he traded a man for it before the envoy found them outside of Stockholm." He looks down, his face darkening slightly. "I know it's a long shot, but it's the best lead I've found."

"You think it's Norway's?"

"But isn't that kind of…" he trails off and closes his fingers around the pin. "Unlikely?"

Germany thinks so as well, but when he hears how desperate Denmark is for even a flicker of hope, he understands. He understands only too well. The frantic need to hold on to hope, however small it may seem, was what kept him sane during the years the Berlin Wall stood tall.

It was the hope of maybe seeing his brother again which kept him alive.

Denmark leans back again, but still doesn't meet Peter's eyes, his shoulders sagging and his shirt slipping down one arm. He sighs softly and rakes a hand through his hair. "Some hope is better than no hope."

Sealand clears his throat and gently hands the pin back to Denmark, placing it in his palm and curling the older man's fingers around it. "I want to come with you. We can find them together."

Peter is happy by the turn of events. It will be like a camping trip with his favorite uncle! What's not to like, right? His innocent and trouble-free mind is not quite capable of thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

"Only take what you think you'll need," Denmark says as he starts to pull his boots back on. "Do you have a coat?"

Peter shakes his head. "No. Is it cold outside?"

"Sometimes…" Denmark raises a curious eyebrow. "How long has it been since you've left the bunker?"

"I haven't."

"Not at all?"

"No. I didn't want to see."

"Shit."

"You aren't gonna like what you see. I'm going to tell you right now, there isn't anything left. Everything has literally burnt up."

Scared looks are shared amongst the nations. This doesn't sound promising. In the story, Denmark goes on to explain how there's still lying dead bodies on the streets, while he covers Sealand's face with a bandana and googles.

"I try to avoid the main roads, though. I'll try to keep you from seeing them."

Peter wrinkles his nose when Denmark pulls the bandana up over his face. It smells like dirt and sweat. "How come you don't go on the roads? Isn't that faster?"

"Yeah, it is. The problem is that there are people out there who never made it into shelters and still managed to survive what happened. People are desperate and they're very, very dangerous. There isn't much for food or supplies left and a lot of them have given up on scavenging." A pause.

"People are turning on each other. A lot of them wait on the main roads for people who are traveling and if they've got anything of use on them, they'll do whatever it takes to get it."

In the story, Denmark leans lifts up his shirt to expose a ragged scar, explaining that he had a rain poncho on, and thus giving proof to the fact, that people are dangerous.

"There are also people who are making other people into resources, if you know what I mean."

Peter's eyes widen. "They're…they're eating each other?"

They listen as Denmark confirms Peter's question and dread settles in the pit of every nation's stomachs. Oh great, just what this story needs, England sighs and leans back into his chair, fucking cannibals.

Denmark crouches down so that he is at eye level with Peter and reaches out to take his hands into his own. "Now, listen," he says seriously. "I need you to promise me that when we leave, you'll listen to everything I tell you."

Denmark seriousness is something the other nations aren't familiar with, and frankly, it's slightly disturbing. Gone is the happy-go-lucky, cheery Dane who everyone knows. Or perhaps think they know? It's only a handful in this room that has actually seen the Dane's darker sides.

"I've been out there for a long time and it's really important that you trust me, okay? I know that you can take care of yourself, but you also need to realize how dangerous it is. It's not just the people either. Nature's gotten just as bad." He squeezes Sealand's hands. "Do you promise to do what I tell you?"

Peter stares at him, wide eyed, and nods jerkily. "I promise."

Denmark smiles and pats his knee. "Good."

"How come we have to cover our faces?" Peter asks. "Is the air bad?"

Peter asks Denmark why they must cover their faces, which is a question that some of the nations have been wondering about too. When Denmark explains, it makes perfect sense though.

"When the flashes happened, it set all kinds of shit on fire. Landfills, buildings, cars, you name it, it's been on fire. The air is really caustic because of it. It's also because of the ash. If you breathe too much of it, it'll make you sick and if too much of it gets into your eyes…" he taps the left side of his goggles. "You'll go blind. And that's another thing; I need you to always walk on my right side, all right? If you're on the left, I won't be able to see you."

England frowns. Nations usually heal from their wounds rather quickly, so it's a surprise that Denmark is still blind.

"Shouldn't the physical damage be healed by now?" he asks out loud, not expecting an answer.

"Perhaps" England turns his head over to China, who adds "but if a nation's landmass is physically damaged, it takes its toll on the nation too." There's a knowing look in China's eyes as he leans back in his chair.

"So, the damage will be permanent?"

China doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. The answer hangs in the air, unspoken yet obvious to all of them. A few worried glances are shot in Denmark's direction, but Denmark shrugs it off and focuses on the story. So, what, it's just a blind eye? Nothing serious, he broods.

"All right, one last thing before we leave," he reaches around to open the bag around his waist and pulls free a small knife which he hands to Peter. "Once we get going, I'll try to find you something better, but for now, keep this on you at all times. Did Tino ever teach you how to shoot?"

Normally, Tino wouldn't like the idea of his boy learning how to shoot, but since the story takes place in a post-apocalyptic world, he deems it necessary. He makes a mental note to start giving Peter shooting lessons. You know, just in case.

Tino and the rest of the nations listen expectantly as Denmark's hand folds around the bunker's door handle. This is it. This is where their journey begins.

"Try not to inhale," Denmark mutters as he hauls the door back. "The first breath is always the worst."

Light floods the entryway and as his eyes focus, despite his best efforts, he cannot heed Denmark's advice, the Dane easily catching him when he pitches forward, coughing and sputtering into his hands. The air is hot and full of grit.

As he fights to gain his breath back, he tries not to look; tries not to see the footprints in the ash or the pair of crushed eyeglasses by the huge hole in the ground, the last remnants of dead humans. He tries not to think about whom the glasses belonged to or whether the feet that made the prints were still attached to their owners.

He tries not to remember the little Polish boy.

The description of the dead people doesn't settle well in many of the nations stomachs. They all have disturbing memories of the Black Death where the sickness swept over the countries like a wildfire, too fast to prevent and too deathly to do something about it. Italy remembers as the overwhelming numbers of deceased bodies produced by the Black Death caused the necessity of mass burial sites, and he prays that he will never have to go through the pain of burying his people again.

It's only when Denmark scoops him up and begins to carry him that Peter realizes he is crying. His chest aches and he buries his face into the front of Denmark's coat, still unable to stop the harsh, wracking coughs as the Dane wraps his arms tightly around him and holds him, turning away from the pit and toward the cracked, ash smothered road. He wants to tell Denmark to put him down. He wants him to acknowledge that he is big enough to not need coddling and that he can take care of himself, but the air hurts and there are bones in the hole and he is absolutely terrified.

This was not what Peter had expected. This isn't a fun camping trip with his favorite uncle. This sounds more like one of those survival tv-programs, except there are dead people too. Peter trembles and tightens his grip around Finland's hand, not quite willing to let go just yet.

Denmark's gloved hand suddenly comes to rest on the back of his head, gentle and careful, and he presses his cheek to the side of Sealand's head. "Peter," he says softly, turning down enough for the boy to hear him. "It's going to be okay. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'm going to keep you safe." He hugs him just a little bit tighter and through the fabric of his windbreaker, Peter can feel him place a steady kiss to his temple.

"I promise."

On that note, the voice stops speaking and the screen fades to black.

Peter is relieved at Denmark's assuring words. He believes him, when he says, he will take care of him. You can say what you want about his uncle, but he always keeps his promises.

Denmark, however, doesn't quite know how to proceed. A part of him is beginning to dread this story, especially since it's about him. You would think that Denmark loves being the center of attention, but there's little truth to that. All he had ever really wished for was to be noticed by the Nordics a little more often.

The older man is stirred out of his thoughts when Germany's voice echoes out in the room.

"Let's take thirty minutes break."

The nations happily comply, eager to clear their minds and get some fresh air. Iceland, Norway, Sweden and Finland are quick to leave, and Peter is in the middle of going with them when he stops abruptly, does a spin on his heels, and strides over to Denmark to take him by the hand. There's a second of surprise on the Dane's face before it's gone and replaced with a hesitant smile. Peter returns the smile and drags him along to meet up with the Nordics. He won't be forgotten this time.

Authors Note: So that was it for chapter 4! I will try to update as often as possible and don't worry, I have no intention on abandoning this fic ;-)