Hi, guys!

I'm afraid it's not the joyful reunion you may have been expecting between England and his fellow nations. Mostly because everyone's in shock and the day England openly and willingly displays outward affection for so many other nations will be the day it starts snowing in Hell. XD

Allons-y!


Five

Fearful Eyes

Scotland doesn't look happy at all.

Sure, England can understand why. The redhead and the rest of the G8 were just attacked by a powerful, violent black cloud and now seven of them are staring at someone they thought was dead. This definitely isn't how Scotland wanted this to play out.

England sighs and lowers the blade slightly. He may have destroyed the entity but that doesn't mean he's not still on alert. There might be more. Something else might try and attack them. After the peculiar events of today, he's sure he's not the only one who's convinced that anything could happen.

Scotland closes his eyes briefly. 'Yeh shouldn't have brought that.'

'If I hadn't, that thing would still be here,' England replies coolly, still refusing to put the blade away. 'Believe me now?'

''Bout what?'

'My earlier theory. Regarding magic.'

Scotland winces. 'That thing, whatever it was... was definitely a creature of magic, I'll admit to that. Whether it's got anything to do with why yeh disappeared in the first place-'

'England?'

Finally, one of the other nations is able to speak. It's Germany, voicing the shocked thought that must be going through the heads of all the others too.

England suddenly feels a little awkward at the entrance he made. So much for being a dignified gentleman- he just wildly burst in here with a dagger and seemingly destroyed some dark magical entity, and so far hasn't offered any explanation. Not that he has one regarding the creature. All he can say with certainty is that it is definitely a creature of dark magic.

It's been five years since he's seen any of them, though with his current amnesia, for him it's technically only been a few weeks. But he can feel how much time has passed... especially with those new memories he's rewarded with in his dreams...

Even Russia looks surprised (and a little fascinated). 'How incredible. England has been resurrected.'

'I'd have to have been dead in the first place for that to be true,' England remarks.

'But... how...?' Japan breathes, eyes wider than England has ever seen them.

'So... yeah.' Scotland sounds even more awkward than England feels. 'That's the, er, surprise I was talking 'bout earlier.'

'No way...'

'That's impossible...'

'You're dead...'

'Isn't anyone even a little curious about that creature?' England mutters.

'Iggy?' Somehow, America's voice is quieter than it has ever been before.

'Five years, and not once did you think that your continuation to use that infernal nickname would tarnish my memory?' England replies haughtily, but he is secretly pleased. America is still the same as before- or so it seems so far, anyway.

The blue eyed nation isn't smiling or anything- he's in too much shock for that, just like the others. No one is rushing forwards to greet England or anything, but the Brit isn't expecting it to happen, and in all honesty, his head is still pretty wrapped up on the encounter with the entity. Not to mention the fact that the creature wounded him- not badly, but he's aware of the cuts on his chest and blood on his shirt.

Scotland seems to notice it now. 'Yeh're wounded.'

'Yeah. That thing got me downstairs. Knocked me over and came up here. I had to run after it.'

'Where did it come from?'

'The mirror.'

'What mirror?'

'The one in the library downstairs. It kind of just emerged from the glass.' England strides over to the table and pulls out a chair for him to sit on. He's feeling a little light headed, probably from the blood loss. As he glances around the room, he can see the damage properly; there are bits of rubble here and there from the blasted door and the hole in the wall. Some pedestrians on the street below have probably called the emergency services by now. The humans will probably be here fairly soon.

'They won't believe us. Someone should come up with an alibi,' England points out.

'What?' Scotland says.

'I mean, no one's going to believe a homicidal cloud caused the damage. Probably best to say it was a gas leak.'

Germany seems to regain a little composure from the initial shock. 'I- ja. That would a sensible option.'

'Or you could say it was a terrorist attack. Then again, that would cause an awful lot of fuss. And to be honest,' England says, looking at the other nations carefully, 'I'm sure we've all had enough fuss for one day, don't you?'


'Where 'ave you been?'

England stiffens and glances up. France stands before him with a completely serious expression and no hint of humour or a sneer in his tone. The frog honestly looked like he was going to have a heart attack back in the meeting room when England showed up. Actually, most of the G8 looked like that. And they're still in shock right now.

'Bit of a mystery,' England says carefully. He remembers how Scotland told him that it would be best if he let the elder do the explaining.

'We've got all day,' France replies shortly. Because of the 'gas leak', the nations have called off the meeting for the day and have all retreated to one of America's city houses for the big explanation. England is regretting this already.

'Well...'

'He doesn't remember,' Scotland says, casually lighting a cigarette. America doesn't seem to mind him smoking in his house. To be honest, America hasn't actually said anything since he suggested they all go to his house.

Japan looks confused. 'What do you mean?'

England resists the urge to roll his eyes at the thought of his amnesia story being explained again. First, he had to tell his brothers. Then the Prime Minister. Then the Royal Family. Now these other nations. Oh well, at least Scotland's doing the talking.

'He's lost five years of his memory,' Scotland continues. 'Hasn't got a clue what happened to him durin' that time.'

'Amnesia?' Germany asks.

England nods but doesn't say anything.

'He showed up again exactly five years after he disappeared. Exactly five years- on the Bonfire Night, just like last time.'

'Whereabouts?'

'The Thames.'

'The river?' Italy says curiously.

'Aye,' Scotland replies. 'He climbed out and phoned Wales, then collapsed. He had hypothermia and physical exhaustion. He spent a few days in hospital.'

'And you didn't think to contact us about this?' France asks.

'Would any of yeh have believed us?' Scotland says. 'We thought we should wait until England had recovered and then let him come along to the G8 so yeh could see for yerselves.'

Would any of you have cared? England adds silently.

'But... what about that thing?' America pipes up. 'That monster?'

Finally, England thinks, someone is asking the right questions. He's a little surprised that it's America. 'Dark magic,' he answers. 'It's the only possible explanation.'

A few of the countries shift uncomfortably in their spots around the room, avoiding eye contact.

England scowls. 'Oh, come on. I disappear on a night with freak weather, reappear exactly five years later on a night with the same freak weather in the exact same spot I vanished in to begin with- yes, I fell in the river,' he adds, glaring at France who has raised his eyebrows. 'And then some unknown entity emerges from a mirror of all things and tries to attack us all. You can't honestly still deny the existence of magic by this point.'

'I suppose yeh used magic to bring that ruddy knife with yeh,' Scotland mutters.

England waves his hand in dismissal. 'Simple concealment charm. Easy. But that creature... that would have taken powerful magic to conjure.'

'Yeh think it was conjured, then?' Scotland asks.

England nods. 'It must have been. It's a creature of dark magic- not really alive. It wasn't even truly sentient; merely a creation of powerful conjuring. Someone sent it after m- us.'

Japan isn't fooled my England's hasty correction. 'You think that thing was sent after you, England-san?'

'It was perfectly happy attacking the rest of us too,' Germany points out.

'It was following me to begin with,' England says, feeling a little resigned. He might as well tell them a little bit more of what he's figured out so far. 'But it was curious about the rest of you, too.'

'Curious? It tried to kill us!' France says.

'I wonder how it is that England knows so much about it,' Russia says calmly, watching England very carefully with clear violet eyes.

England shivers slightly under the gaze. 'It just makes sense. To me, anyway.'

'But yeh knew, didn't yeh? Sort of, anyway,' Scotland says quietly.

'What?'

'Yeh thought something was following yeh 'round. And yeh were really uneasy 'bout that mirror in the hotel, too. Another one of yer funny feelings, England? Is this one instinctive too?'

England honestly feels like hitting his brother. Scotland is revealing way too much to the other nations. He doesn't want them knowing about the paranoia or the wounds or the dreams...

Then again, Scotland knows barely anything about the dreams himself.

England rises from his chair. He's getting too restless just sitting around and he's pretty sure that entity wasn't the only thing that will try and find him. 'Whoever conjured and sent that thing will probably try again,' he says. 'They... clearly want something.'

'They want yeh,' Scotland amends, ignoring England's furious look. 'That's obvious enough. Would explain why yeh're so paranoid.'

'Shut up,' England hisses.

'Yeh want to know what I think?' Scotland asks.

'Not really,' England snaps.

'I think that whoever sent that thing is the one responsible for yer disappearance in the first place,' the redhead says confidently. 'After all, Ireland reckons yeh might have been kidnapped and-'

'Oh, I bet you and Ireland and Wales have had lots of charming little talks behind my back.'

'Um...?' Canada says awkwardly, and a few other nations cough uncomfortably. It would appear that the two British nations are so caught up in their debate that they've forgotten about everyone else in the room.

England composes himself quickly. 'Look, I don't know who sent that thing. I don't know why I had a feeling that it was following me beforehand. I just did. And I don't know what happened to me over the last five years, but...' he trails off as a small shudder passes over him. Watching him from the corner of the room are a pair of red eyes. Not the same as the ruby ones of the entity, but a menacing shade of crimson. The eyes of the demon in his nightmares.

Not real, England quickly reassures himself. No one else can see it. Then again, there are plenty of things that England can see but others can't. But Scotland can generally see everything England can, and he's not reacting. Not real, not real.

'England?' Canada prompts.

'I- nothing.' England turns away from the crimson eyes and decides he's had enough of this for one day.


Aside from every other crazy, irregular thing that's happened today, he realises he is slightly fazed by another thing he never thought he would even care about. He understands why no one ran to greet him. There were all in shock, even when they'd all left the meeting building. They had questions, sure, but...

Were they even pleased to see him?

England doesn't want people freaking out over his return and, God forbid, hugging him. Wales tried hugging him, a few days after he returned, back when he was still in hospital. It resulted in Wales pinned down to the floor. England couldn't even help it- it was an instinctive reaction. As soon as the arms closed around him, he felt trapped.

No one in the G8 has tried hugging him, thankfully. England is grateful for that... and at the same time, he's bothered. Surely someone should have tried, or shown a little more enthusiasm... surely America...

He's standing outside now. He told the others he needed a breather, but Scotland wouldn't let him go alone, so he's stuck with his elder brother once again. The other nations have remained indoors, probably discussing this new development.

'Just as well we let 'em think,' Scotland says. 'They're all in shock.'

'That creature was the product of some very powerful magic,' England murmurs. 'Even more so than I realised before.'

'Oh?'

'It takes an incredible amount of power to make something magical visible to others,' England says. 'I mean, it's easy for you and I to view the supernatural- we have the Sight. But they don't. That's why they never believed in magic. Until now, anyway. Because they saw that thing, just like we did. For something magical to become visible to those who don't have the Sight, an enormous amount of power must have been used.'

Scotland frowns. 'Yeh've got a point. But who could've-?'

'I don't know. But you're right,' England admits with a sigh. 'Whoever sent that creature has definitely got something to do with my disappearance.'

'Are yeh remembering?'

'I...' England is beginning to grow tired of lying.

'Yeh are, aren't yeh? But yeh won't tell me or Wales or Ireland 'bout it.'

'I'm not sure what to say. I don't know where I was or who took me. But I remember... ending up somewhere. And I remember voices.'

Eyes, too, he adds in his head. Two pairs. One crimson, the other electric blue. Who are they?

Scotland puts his hand on his brother's shoulder. 'England, yeh need to tell us everything yeh know. It's the only way any of us are gonna help yeh.'

But do I even want your help? England thinks before he can stop himself.

They're standing in the back garden of America's house. It's evening now, and England has spent most of the day trying to avoid the other nations. He doesn't want their questions, not when he's got so many of his own as it is. There's something about the way their eyes watch him that make him uneasy. There's something about being around people in general that unnerves him, including his brothers. Scotland's been the one explaining everything. Scotland's the one handling the situation.

'… you're not gonna believe who... wait- you already knew? How? Oh, he told you? Isn't it great, though? You were right, dude...'

America emerges from the back door to the house, stepping out into the garden without spotting Scotland or England. He's got his phone pressed to his ear and has a smile on his face.

'Oi, yank! Yeh ain't meant to be tellin' anyone 'bout England yet!' Scotland snaps and America jumps, almost dropping his phone.

'No, it's okay, don't worry,' he protests, then addresses the person on the other end. 'I'll talk to ya later, dude. Bye!'

'We don't want anyone other than the G8 knowin' right now,' Scotland adds angrily as America ends the call.

'Chill, he already knew,' America says cheerfully.

'Who did?' England demands.

'Your brother. Sealand.'

Scotland relaxes. 'Wales must've told him. I would have waited a little longer until we've figured everythin' out but-' His phone begins to ring and he quickly swipes it out of his pocket. 'Speak of the devil,' he mutters a he identifies the caller ID. 'Hey, Wales... Yeah, I told 'em. Didn't really go to plan. Long story... No, he's fine. Don't worry. I'm fine too, by the way, thanks for askin'... Yeah, I heard... Yeah, uh...' he shoots England and awkward look and the other Brit quickly establishes that whatever Scotland wants to say to Wales, he doesn't want England to hear.

'Anyway, I guess I should...' Scotland glances between America and England with a peculiar, wary, almost reluctant expression, still on the phone to Wales. '… give yeh both some space...'

England is bemused. Scotland giving him space? That's new, especially since Scotland's still convinced that England is going to run away at any minute. England is about to point this out when his brother turns on his heel and disappears inside the house, leaving the remaining Brit with America.

'You were on the phone to Sealand?' England inquires after a few moments of silence.

America nods. 'Yep. Turns out he already knew you were back.'

'I didn't realise you knew him.'

'We're friends,' America replies with a smile. 'The little guy's pretty cool.'

'Right.' England stares off into space for a second before his eyes fix on America again. A shiver runs through his body and he subconsciously shuffles uneasily. Nothing today is making sense. He shouldn't be feeling like this. So ready to run, so cautious and on guard just faced with someone like America.

America is still smiling, but there's a lot withheld behind it. That much is clear. He looks kind of nervous himself, shifting slightly from foot to foot. 'You- uh... you're alive.'

'Last time I checked, yes. And not a zombie, before you ask.'

America's eyes are shining, though it seems very curious to England. Not happily shining. Well, he does seem happy, but more the kind of glimmering you'd see if the eyes were filled with tears. If, of course. There's no way America is crying. But there is a very strange sense of bundled up, contrasting emotions behind those blue eyes.

And then he's holding out his arms and stepping forward for a hug, and all England can see is the memory of the crimson eyes and the chains wrapped around his body and the knife slicing into his skin, and he quickly takes an alarmed step back, waves of panic sweeping over him.

America freezes, arms still held out for the hug. England stands still for a second too, still trying to grasp reality.

'Sorry,' he says. 'I... I don't do the hugging thing anymore.' And he is so genuinely sorry, because he can see that crushed look that America tries to hide and he feels so guilty because of it.

America gives a pained smile. 'You weren't really much for it to begin with.'

'That's not true. I used to hug you quite a lot.' And by that, he of course means back when America was a child.

America laughs. It's shaky and uncoordinated. 'Sure, dude. It's cool. So, uh, you remember nothing, huh?'

'Bits and pieces. Nothing helpful.' England is really starting to feel cold now. Something about this feels very wrong. Since when does talking to America feel so wrong? Since when does being in his presence feel so wrong?

'But, ya know, this is great, dude,' America quickly puts in with that forced optimistic voice, almost like he's trying to hold himself together. 'You can start coming to meetings again and you can catch up on all the awesome shows you missed and the last Harry Potter movie and I totally gotta show you The Hunger Games and The Hobbit movies and you've missed five of my birthday parties and I know you never really liked coming to them but you did anyway and-'

'I get the picture,' England says hastily, because America almost seems to be on the verge of a hysterical breakdown if he starts speaking any faster. 'Perhaps we should go back inside and...' And calm down quite a lot. '… and, um, sit down.'

America gives another nervous laugh. 'Yeah, sure. That makes sense.'

England breathes a sigh of relief. There's not a single part of him that wants to go back in the house. There's something so wrong about being here with the other nations, especially now he has proof that something's after him. But he has to go back inside, because otherwise Scotland and the others will come and look for him.


He was right, America thinks. He was right about England.

America doesn't want to go back to the others inside his own home. But he's not sure he wants to stay out here, alone with England, either. Because this nation, standing in front of him, is England- but he's also not.

He's all... different. Wild and unpredictable, and far too accepting of the idea of a supernatural force wanting him dead. America doesn't understand it at all, and it frightens him. Is this even the same England? Is it truly him at all?

England is supposed to be dead. That's the conclusion everyone came to. They spent three years searching and the remaining two coming to terms with the fact that he was never coming back. The other nations grew to accept it. And now he's suddenly appeared again, like a bomb's been dropped directly into their lives. To top it off, his arrival is accompanied by a powerful entity seeking to destroy him and those around him.

America is happy. Or at least, he wants to be happy. Because he remembers something that someone said to him a while ago, something that kept him hoping even when everyone else gave up.

'He's not dead, you know. They're all wrong.'

America remembers how badly he wanted it to be true. And now it is. But it's like a dream. First it was a nightmare, because of that monster that tried to kill him and the other countries. Now it's a good dream because England is back.

But what's most unnerving is the look of... fear in England's eyes. It's not apparent most of the time. He remained quite cool and aloof whilst conversing with the other nations. All calm and collected in the chaos. Completely in control of his own emotions.

But not when his eyes meet with America's.

Each and every time America and England have made eye contact, England's mask slips. He looks like prey, caught in a trap, like he believes America is the predator. The first time they properly looked at each other, England looked like he wanted to run. Even now, after their little chat, something is off. Like England is seeing something in America that isn't even there.

America watches as England looks around with wary eyes briefly and rests his hand over the pocket that has the knife before entering the house. And the younger nation knows something is very, very wrong with England.


As I said, I would imagine this isn't quite the reunion you were expecting. I would once again draw to attention the fact that most of the nations are still in shock and England clearly does not react well to physical contact, if that helps explain it. Despite England's negative thoughts, the nations are relieved to see him again, in their own little ways. They just haven't had a chance to show it yet. Give it time.

All will be explained in due time about the current dynamics between America and England. Let's just say it's complicated for now, and leave it at that. :P

Thinking of doing some more flashbacks in the next chapter. I haven't written it out yet, so we'll see... ;)

Thanks for reading, and remember to review!