Boy, have I cooked up a troublesome chapter here. It took ages for me to think of the right words to start it off with, and it took me weeks to try, but once I was off, I really got into it. Just had to persevere, I guess. '^^
Um. Yeah. Angst. Angsty, angsty angst. Nothing new there. XD
A big panic attack as well from one of the characters (you can probably guess which one). Loads of paranoia too, though it's not just England this time. Fingers are being pointed in this chapter.
Allons-y! (A reviewer was asking about the 'allons-y' thing I do at the beginning of each chapter. No, I'm not French. It's a Doctor Who inside joke. A couple of years ago I decided to do it in every new chapter of all of my stories. As you may be able to tell by now, I'm a massive Whovian. '^^)
Twelve
Courage Dies
England has been gone for about an hour and a half and Scotland has tried ringing him four times. Each one has gone to voicemail.
He curses Russia for the millionth time. France, Germany and Japan too. They may not have been aware that England was listening in on them, but who the hell said it was okay for them to discuss all of this privately?
Hypocrite, says a nasty voice in Scotland's head, and he sighs.
Wales has texted him again, telling him that Sealand has been dropped off at America's house, which explains why the damn yank was happy to ditch the meeting. Scotland replies with a message rather casually saying that England has left the meeting too. He tries not to imply that anything is wrong, but Wales panics anyway.
Where did he go? Is he ok?
He wonders off quite a lot these days, Scotland replies. He'll probably show up again at 3am or something.
But will he, though? If what America says is true, then there's a possibility that England has discovered that Scotland's the one who told everyone he was dead. But where could he have heard it? Maybe it was something France, Russia, Germany or Japan might have said whilst England was spying on them…
Maybe one of the other G8 members told him. America claimed in their argument earlier on that he hadn't said anything, but in all honestly, America would be the one to say something, wouldn't he? How he would love that. The self-proclaimed hero, being completely honest with England and explaining how Scotland's the 'bad guy' who gave up on his own little brother, but the 'hero' never did give up hope. America would probably jump at the opportunity…
Scotland scowls and checks his phone again. Nothing, not even another worried text from Wales. Then again, it's probably only been around thirty seconds since he last looked at it.
He would have come out with the truth, eventually. Scotland knows there was no way he could hide it forever. He just wishes he could have phrased it properly instead of someone else blurting it out. Then again, it would be a miracle in itself getting England to listen to reason, or even listen at all for that matter. The younger has never been particularly talkative with his family and he is even less so now that he has returned.
Scotland goes over the words in his head, slowly. I'm sorry. Is it good to start with an apology? England will scoff at that. England always scoffs at apologies. And sympathy. And just general concern, really.
You weren't dead, obviously. But, for whatever reason, your life force was cut off regardless. For two years Wales and I knew, and we said nothing. By the third year, we were having trouble hiding what we knew. After three years altogether, we couldn't pretend any longer.
Scotland's really making an arse of himself, he knows. He's glad that he is at least alone right now. Germany excused him so that he could take a break and try and get in contact with England. He hasn't actually left the building though- he's on the third floor, in the original meeting room the entity attacked them in at the beginning of the week. White sheets cover the big hole that was blasted in the wall and there are a couple of sheets of glass leaning up against a wall, ready to be used as the new windows. The builders aren't around right now so Scotland figures he probably won't be disturbed here. After all, none of the other countries are keen on coming back to the place where they were almost killed by a supernatural monster.
Scotland lights a cigarette. It's his third one since he came with his little brother to the States. The first was at America's house, after the first meeting and the encounter with the entity. The second was in the hotel room on the morning of the third meeting, right before England returned from his night wandering. Scotland still doesn't know where his brother disappeared to. Perhaps that's where England is right now.
'Where are yeh…?' he mutters tiredly, leaning up against one of the undamaged walls.
Eventually, a strange, echoing, ringing noise reaches his ears. It's gentle like wind chimes in a slight breeze but it sounds unnatural, making an eerie vwooorp noise. Is it just the wind against the white sheets? Something about it is familiar…
Scotland frowns and strides across the room to the hole in the wall. There don't appear to be any major gaps in the sheet and it seems to be held fairly secure against the wall. It's not flapping around or anything and definitely is not the cause of the noise.
Scotland's skin is tingling. More than that. As he leans down to inspect the bottom of the sheet to insure that it is held down here too, he acknowledges that his very awareness is currently heightened. As he straightens up again, he knows it has something to do with his Sight.
His magic may not be nearly as strong as England's, but he can tell that he is in the presence of some sort of supernatural occurrence.
He turns around quickly, but he can't see anything. There isn't an entity hovering there, waiting to attack him. There aren't any magical creatures in sight. There's nothing here out of the order in front of him, just a stack of bricks for the new wall, the glass sheets and some empty cement mixers-
Anything that casts a reflection.
Scotland remembers England's hypothesis. The younger told the G8 that the mirror isn't the only thing that magical creatures like the entity can use. Anything that casts a reflection, like water or-
Glass.
Scotland stares at the glass sheets. Although they are transparent, he can just make out a faded reflection of himself staring back. As he watches, the reflection and all sight of the other side of the glass are replaced by a black abyss, spreading across the glass like smoke.
Another entity? Scotland's eyes dart to the opening to the room where the door once stood. He can't get to it without passing fairly close to the glass sheets. He's on the wrong side of the room, standing close to the hole in the outer wall, covered by the white sheets. Not enough magical power and no handy knife on him. He's nowhere near as prepared as England was the last time they were all attacked.
He turns around again to see if there's anything behind him he can use. But no, all that's here is the great hole on the side of the building and the sheet covering it. On the one hand, it is an exit. An exit that leads straight to a drop of what must be at least seventy feet with a concrete pavement below. No thanks.
When he turns around again, he can make out a silhouette on the sheet of glass. It's barely distinguishable but there is a lighter shape on the black background of a person standing there. A humanoid figure, not like the entity. And instead of the bright ruby eyes of the entity, these ones are a dark crimson.
'What… who the hell are yeh?' Scotland manages to get out. He remembers England telling about the two pairs of eyes haunting him. One pair bright blue, the other pair red. Is this one of the people who kidnapped England?
A faint chuckle is emitted from the glass. The tone sounds familiar. As if Scotland has heard this particular sound before.
'What did yeh do to my brother?' Scotland demands.
The laughter fades away and the silhouette straightens up a little. Its features aren't clear yet, only the red eyes.
Smash the glass, Scotland thinks quickly. I need to smash the glass. It might still get through in the fragments, but it's still worth a shot.
Despite every instinct in his body telling him to back away from this mysterious figure, Scotland approaches the glass cautiously. He'll have to kick it or pick up one of the bricks and throw it, maybe.
But as soon as he reaches the glass, the figure has faded, as has the black canvas behind it. The glass is once again ordinary and transparent. Scotland breathes a sigh of relief. But there's no way it's completely over. That thing could quickly come back and attack for real this time. Scotland takes his eyes of the glass and quickly scans the room for the best object to smash the window with. He settles on the pile of bricks and is about to head over to it when something crashes into him and he goes stumbling backwards in surprise. Looking down in surprise, he spots a long, thick, spiky object retracting from his chest and blood squirting from the spots where the spikes cut into his skin.
'You hurt England,' says an all too familiar voice, deadly and leering.
Before Scotland has the chance to look up he has been hit by the object, harder this time. He is not only knocked off his feet but is sent tumbling backwards by the sheer force of the blow.
His body collides with the white sheets behind him and with a terrible ripping noise, they tear away from the walls under the force of his weight landing on them at this speed. And all of a sudden, there is nothing beneath Scotland. He tumbles through the open air, rushing down to the concrete below.
The G8 members, with the exception of America and- of course- Scotland, are waiting at the hospital when England and Sealand arrive. Wales is there too, and as his younger brothers enter the accident and emergency department, he rushes to greet them, pulling them both into a big hug. Sealand squirms around and complains, and England closes his eyes and supresses every instinct in his body telling him to push Wales off him.
Wales finally lets go when he notices how rigid England has become. 'Sorry,' he mutters as the other nations standing nearby watch in confusion. 'I forgot.'
How Wales managed to forget England practically judo-flipping him the last time he tried hugging the younger, England will never know, but he supposes there is a far more pressing and immediate concern on Wales's mind right now.
'How bad?' he asks.
Wales winces. 'Sea, how about you go and sit over there with Italy and-'
'No, I want to hear what you're going to say,' Sealand says stubbornly, folding his arms. 'I'm not a little kid. I'm over half a century.'
Which is still pretty young by their standards, but England isn't about to point that out.
'You mentioned a fall,' he presses. 'Where did he fall? How far…?'
Wales's bottom lip is trembling. 'About seventy-five feet…'
'But… that's not too bad,' England murmurs. 'I mean, humans could survive that in certain circumstances. And he's a nation, so he has a much better chance. What did he land on?'
'Concrete,' Wales says, looking down at the ground. 'He fell from the hole in the wall that the creature made, back where the meeting was originally meant to take place…'
'The room where the entity attacked? What was he doing in there?'
'He… uh… took a break from the meeting,' Germany answers. 'He wanted to find somewhere quiet to try phoning you. I suppose he thought he'd be undisturbed in there.'
'But how did he just… fall?' England demands. 'I mean, why the bloody hell would he stand so close to the edge? How could he just…?'
'We don't know, England-san,' Japan says. 'We haven't been allowed to see Scotland-san yet.'
'His wounds aren't too severe,' Wales says. 'I mean, they're bad, but they could be worse. They said he's stable- a few broken ribs and some fractured bones here and there. It's his head their worried about. It would have smacked against the concrete.'
The nations are silent for a few sombre moments and then Sealand pipes up. 'Didn't anyone call America?'
Wales looks puzzled. 'You were both with him. I thought he'd hear it from you.'
'We weren't at America's house when you phoned,' England says. 'He's probably not aware of what's happened.'
'Excuse me? Which one of you is Dylan Kirkland?' a nurse asks, entering the waiting room and glancing around at the gathered countries.
'That's me,' Wales replies.
The nurse smiles. 'Alistair is still stable and has regained consciousness. He has a mild concussion but the signs look good. We haven't found any traces of internal bleeding and he is perfectly responsive. Honestly, your brother is extremely lucky, given the circumstances.'
This is probably down to Scotland being a nation and not a human, as countries can endure wounds significantly better than humans can. There are a few sighs of relief from around the room.
'Can we see him?' Wales asks.
The nurse nods. 'He's been asking to speak with you. We're permitted to admit immediate family once we're certain he is stable, which we are. Are there any other family members…?' The nurse's eyes rest on England and Sealand, probably taking note of their similar appearances to Wales and Scotland.
Wales looks quite content. 'Come on,' he says to his two younger brothers.
The three leave the other nations in the waiting room and follow the nurse out of the room. They're lead down a corridor to a private ward close to the theatre room. Scotland is the only patient in the room, on a bed at the far end, a scowl etched across his face as if he's rather fed up with the whole situation. England resists the urge to smirk, then remembers that his brother almost died and they're not exactly on fantastic terms right now as it is. Honestly, this is probably going to be incredibly awkward. These recent events are enough to make England feel guilty about resenting his brother.
Sealand bounds up to Scotland's bed and immediately starts barking out inquisitive questions ('Are you okay now? What did you break? Can I see the x-rays? Are you gonna need a wheelchair?'), while Wales follows along and England trails behind him. Scotland's eyes widen when he catches sight of England.
'Wasn't expecting yeh to show up,' he says, sounding almost relieved. 'I thought yeh'd disappeared.'
'Wasn't expecting you to fall out of a hole in a wall,' England replies neutrally. 'Today's full of surprises.'
Wales sends them both anxious looks, probably silently begging them to keep the peace. Sealand remains completely oblivious, having discovered the little remote that controls the position and angle of the bed. Wales quickly grabs it off him before he has time to press any of the buttons.
'Are you going to be alright?' Wales asks. 'What did you break?'
Scotland looks thoroughly irritated as he glances down at his leg, which is currently being held in a cast. 'One arm, one leg and about three ribs. Buggered up my other shoulder pretty badly too. Bloody nuisance.' He glances around at any humans that might be nearby and lowers his voice. 'And we all know that this will all be healed pretty quickly, so yeh best get me outta here before the humans start askin' questions.'
Wales is glaring at Scotland, visibly angered. Scotland and England both frown in confusion. 'Something wrong, Wales?' Scotland asks.
'You're okay!' Wales exclaims, narrowing his eyes.
'Erm… yeah. I guess,' Scotland says. 'I mean, broken bones and everything, but if yeh're not counting them, then-'
'I thought you might die!'
'… Sorry?' Scotland says, looking bewildered. He glances questioningly at England, but the blonde just shrugs his shoulders, also perplexed by Wales's outburst.
Sealand giggles. 'Of course he's not gonna die! Silly Wales.'
Wales starts laughing too, and Scotland tries joining in but it's clear that it's causing him pain when he starts chuckling.
'How did you fall?' England interjects, remaining stoic.
'Killjoy,' Sealand says with a pout.
Finally, the rather chilled-out look on Scotland face begins to disappear. He looks up at England seriously for a second then turns to look at Wales. 'Could yeh and Sealand give us a moment alone? I need to talk to him about-'
'No,' England says. 'You're going to tell us why you fell.' Now is not the time to be talking about anything else.
Scotland rolls his eyes. 'That's what I'm gonna do, dummy.'
'I want to hear it as well,' Wales remarks. 'I have the right to know-'
'Wales,' Scotland says seriously. 'This is important. Just give us a few minutes.'
'I should know!' Sealand says stubbornly. 'You can't just keep things from me! I deserve to know!' he glances at England expectantly and the other blonde feels his stomach twist uncomfortably. Over the last few minutes, Sealand has once again been acting just like any other child, and it's easy to forget how he supposedly has quite powerful magic and was the only one who could hear England calling. No one ever takes the micronation seriously, not until America decided to listen, and then England heard what they both had to say this very afternoon. So now Sealand is clearly relying on England to stick up for him. It's only fair.
'They both have the right to hear what you have to say,' England says. 'Wales has been worried sick about you and Sealand shouldn't be kept in the dark.'
'Yeah!' Sealand says. 'Jerk England is right, for once!' England almost rolls his eyes.
'Look,' Scotland says firmly through gritted teeth. 'It's a personal matter I'd rather discuss with England. Alone. I'll talk to yeh both afterwards.'
After a few seconds, Wales sighs. 'Come on, Sea. We'll go and tell the others that Scotland's okay.'
'But…' Sealand glances uncertainly at England, who is at a loss as to what to do now. Scotland's decision appears to be quite final. If the other two don't leave, England doubts Scotland's going to explain what happened, so the only way he's going to hear anything is if Wales and Sealand leave.
Once the other two are out the room, Scotland motions with his head for England to come closer. They're alone, as far as England can tell. The family have been given space and there are no other patients in the ward so there aren't any doctors or nurses hurrying in and out.
'England,' Scotland says slowly. 'Yeh have to promise yeh'll hear me out.'
England grits his teeth. 'I'm sure you falling seventy-five feet should be a little higher on your list of priorities to discuss than whatever I may have overheard you and several other nations saying about me. That's hardly relevant right now. What's relevant is you could have died.'
'Worried?' Scotland asks with a weak grin. England glares right back, and Scotland sighs. 'I'm not going to talk to yeh about what yeh heard. Not yet, if yeh don't want to. I really am going to talk about the fall.'
'Good. Then Wales and Sealand should-'
'England. Yeh won't want them to hear this, believe me. Yeh won't even want to hear it yerself, which is why I want yeh to promise yeh'll hear me out.'
Curiosity is prickling inside England now. 'Why?'
'Yeh're smart, little brother,' Scotland says. 'I'm sure yeh've already sussed that it wasn't an accident.'
'Of course it wasn't accident,' England dismisses. 'That meeting room was big. Who the hell stands right at the edge as opposed to the rest of the room and ends up just 'accidentally' falling off? Either… either something made you fall or you…'
'I didn't jump, England. I'm not suicidal.'
'Okay…' England bites his lip. 'So… something pushed you. Another entity?'
'I thought so at first,' Scotland admits. 'There were these glass sheets up there. There was something in the reflection. With red eyes.'
'You saw the demon?' England says almost hungrily.
'It sure as hell looked demonic,' Scotland agrees. 'That's one of the ones yeh were talking 'bout, right? That one and the one with blue eyes.'
'Yeah…' The crimson-eyed demon is still a mystery to England, but he knows that the electric blue eyes belong to his doppelgänger.
'But the thing in the mirror disappeared before I fell. Something else pushed me. Rather, it hit me. It whacked me in the chest with this long spiky instrument and cut up my skin a little. And it wasn't just something. Someone,' Scotland says carefully.
'Are you sure it wasn't the demon?' England says, tilting his head in confusion. 'It was right there in the reflection. I know you said it vanished but maybe it came back. Are you sure it didn't just come through and…?'
'I would have thought so, yeah,' Scotland says quietly. 'But I recognised their voice. The person who made me fall. It's not some mystery culprit, it's someone we know. And I think that they might be in contact with the people who took you. They might be working with them from our side of the reflections.'
… France? England freezes, hardly daring to breathe. Please no. He's already concluded that France must be working with the demon, so… could it be him? Please, please no. A part of England still wants to desperately believe that he's wrong, that France isn't an enemy, but God… what if France pushed Scotland…? He was in the meeting building at the time. He could have taken a break, gone upstairs, found Scotland… No, no, no, no, no, please…
'This is why yeh have to hear me out, England,' Scotland is saying, and he genuinely looks sorry for what he's about to tell his younger brother. 'Yeh're not gonna like this at all. Yeh'll hate it. I'm sorry, alright, but I heard him speaking and I knew his voice.'
England stays silent, too terrified to say anything.
'He said one thing to me: Yeh hurt England. I don't understand how the hell that works out. If he is working with the people who took yeh, then I woulda thought he wouldn't give a damn about yeh. And yet at the same time, it makes perfect sense. He was always the one fighting the rest of us, saying we were lettin' yeh down…'
Wait… hang on… Realisation is dawning on England. Not France. No. It can't be. No…
Don't say it. Please don't say it. It can't be. Please don't let it be…
'It was America,' Scotland says.
NO.
'I'm so sorry, England.'
NO. PLEASE.
'He was always telling us yeh were still alive. Like he knew something we didn't. Well, maybe… maybe he did. Maybe he was in contact with the bastards who took yeh.'
PLEASE, PLEASE, NO.
'I don't know why he was upset 'bout me hurting yeh though, seeing as he's probably working with them. Then again, he never really liked me, so I'm sure pushing me off the ledge can't have been too difficult for him-'
STOP, STOP, STOP.
'I know it's hard to hear and yeh probably won't believe me 'bout this at all but I know what I heard and- I'm sorry, England, I really am, but-'
'You're wrong,' England whispers.
Scotland looks pained. 'Look, I don't want this to be true either. I never woulda believed it myself if I hadn't actually heard his voice. I never thought he would go that far. I know how much he means to yeh, but it was him who pushed me. Even if he isn't working with yer kidnappers, it still makes sense. He despised me when I told everyone yeh were dead.'
'You're wrong,' England repeats, louder this time.
'And if he is working with them… well, look how he's been following yeh around this last few days. He was in the UK that very next morning after yeh disappeared, Wales saw him. He coulda helped them. Yeh're scared to death of him, everyone can see it. Is it any wonder yeh are, considering he might have helped kidnap and torture yeh-?'
'YOU'RE WRONG!' England screams, pushing himself back, away from Scotland's bed.
'England-'
'He was nowhere near the building this afternoon! He was at his house! I was there; Sealand was there too, you can ask him!'
'Were yeh there the whole time?'
'Shut up!' England cries, clenching his fists.
'I fell out of the building at around half one. Were yeh with him at half one?'
There's a sharp intake of breath from England. By half one, he and Sealand had left America's house. They would have been in the cab by that point, on the way to the park to talk to the fae.
Scotland spots the look of doubt on England's face. 'Yeh weren't with him, were yeh?'
'He couldn't have done it.' England can feel a lump in his throat.
'His house is only about ten minutes by foot from the meeting place, he coulda come back and-'
'He wouldn't. America never would. He's not like. He would never do something like that.'
'England, I'm sorry-'
'Stop saying that!' England's eyes are stinging with tears, but he won't dare let them spill. 'You've known him for five Goddamn years, I've known him for centuries! Don't you dare-'
'Is he here? Is he here at the hospital?' Scotland looks quite worried. 'He might try something else with one of the other countries. We have to warn them-'
'Go to hell,' England spits, turning away from his brother and quickly heading to the door.
'England, please-' Scotland's calls trail away as England races away from the ward.
Wales is busy talking with Germany, France and the others when England reaches the waiting room. The only person not in on their conversation is the one person England is willing to talk to. He rushes over to his younger brother.
'Come on,' England says urgently. 'We have to go. Now.'
Sealand squints in confusion. 'What? Why? What's happening?'
'We're going to see America again. I'll tell you on the way.' England is confident that this is the best thing to do. Scotland will try convincing the other nations that America is guilty, so England has to get to America and warn him before they can do anything. Sealand trusts America and is clearly quite fond of him. The micronation definitely won't believe these accusations.
The two of them are out of the doors before the other nations even spot them.
'Scotland's an even bigger jerk than you! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!'
England is almost amused by Sealand's rant, but he's still too upset from his conversation with Scotland. 'He must have a concussion,' he theorises. 'Like Wales said, he would have hit his head when he fell.'
'Does that mean his brain's all muddled right now?' Sealand asks. 'Is that why he thinks it was America?'
'It had better be,' England says darkly. He's trying as hard as he can not to be angry with Scotland. For crying out loud, the eldest brother almost died today. It's selfish and unfair to be treating him like this, and yet England can't help it.
America is one hundred percent innocent. And England is going to prove it.
'But we were with America the whole time,' Sealand says as their cab pulls up on the street America lives on and they get out of the car.
'There are about twenty minutes America has unaccounted for after we left,' England replies. 'That's Scotland's logic.'
'Scotland's a stupid-head,' Sealand says, pouting.
'That head of his is just confused right now. When the concussion wears off, he'll realise how ridiculous this is,' England says, but he doesn't feel very sure of his words. Scotland seemed pretty certain, and his views probably aren't going to change when he's recovered.
'Will they get the police to come and arrest America?' Sealand asks, and his big eyes look quite frightened at the thought.
'They won't involve humans,' England answers. 'There would be too many questions. The other nations probably won't even believe what Scotland's saying. But we have to warn America, just in case.'
His phone vibrates. It's a message from Wales. Are you ok? Is Sealand with you? Have you gone to see America? Please come back. We have to sort this out.
Another message. This one is from Germany. Until we know more, it would be better to avoid any impractical situations. Your brothers are insistent that you and Sealand return immediately. This might be dangerous.
'They're listening to Scotland,' England says, horrified as he stares at his phone. 'Why the hell would they be taking him seriously?'
'Everyone knows that Scotland and America don't like each other very much a lot of the time. They were always arguing over you in world meetings,' Sealand says. 'Maybe they think America really, really hates Scotland…'
'But they can't genuinely believe America would… Canada and Japan definitely won't believe it.'
'They're all a bunch of jerks if they believe it,' Sealand announces.
They reach America's unlocked door and England barges straight in. There's a good chance the other nations will follow them if they don't return soon and they don't have time to waste. 'America?' England calls out hesitantly, but there's no reply. He has to be here, or the door would have been locked. Maybe he's upstairs and he can't hear them?
'You look for him down here. I'm going to check upstairs,' England says, and Sealand grins and salutes him jokingly, once again reminding England of how quickly the micronation can go from being serious to acting like a carefree child.
There's a horrible, uncomfortable feeling gnawing away inside England's stomach. He's nervous about confronting America like every other time he's seen the bigger nation this week, that much is certain. But there's something else too. Genuine fear and… doubt.
He didn't do it. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have.
Has he brought Sealand into danger?
No. Impossible. England is overwhelmed with shame. It's bad enough to be thinking all these terrible things about Scotland right now and to be paranoid about almost everyone. But to even consider that America might have…
Shame on you. This is America.
But he has been acting strange, following England around the whole time. And why the hell is England so unnerved to be around him?
Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
England reaches the top of the stairs and glances around. At the end of the landing, on the left, is America's bedroom. Maybe he's in there. His stomach twists uncomfortably.
Shut up.
His phone buzzes one more time. It's Canada. England, please come back. It's ok. No one here believes America would do it. We know Scotland's just mistaken. He's concussed, he's not thinking straight. It's alright.
But he's already here now…
'What's wrong? You scared?' It's the taunting voice of the red-eyed demon inside his head. It's another brief memory returning of the demon slicing England's skin open with the knife that is now hiding in his pocket. Why is that voice so familiar? Not just because he remembers it from the other world. It was familiar even before that. Something about the demon has always been familiar to him.
England is at the door. His heart is thumping wildly. He can hear the demon laughing inside his head. He knows that laughter.
His hand hovers over his pocket, shaking fearfully. The knife is just there, practically calling for him.
No. Stop. Calm down. Breathe. This is stupid. You are stupid. Nothing's wrong. There's no demon in your head. He's not here. You are safe.
'No one is ever safe,' the demon says gleefully, its voice ringing against his skull.
England reaches out for the door handle instead of his knife. He has to be practical. He needs to think logically. But the door is already swinging open.
It's the demon.
Its figure is a little clearer this time. The body is still hazy and bathed in darkness, but its form is a little more prominent. Definitely a man, taller than England, watching him with those deep crimson eyes.
'England!' it says delightedly.
England stumbles back and crashes into the opposite wall of the narrow landing. The chances of his getting away from the demon this time are slim; they are standing only about three feet apart. England tries to run, but his legs won't move. His breaths are frantic and panicked but he manages to get words out anyway.
'Sealand!' he yelps. 'Sealand, get out of here! Run!'
And America? What's happened to him? What has the demon done to him?
The demon is saying something, but England can't hear it. His body is shaking violently in terror and worry and as another vision of the knife carving into his skin flashes across his mind, his legs give way in an instant and he falls to the ground.
No… no…
The demon towers over him, still saying something. England's ears are ringing. Has Sealand gotten away? Is America alright? Am I going to die?
'Only if you're weak. If you're strong, you get to live.' The demon's words are just a memory inside his head, from back during the torture. Back when England was wondering if the demon would just finish him off.
The words the demon is saying right now, however, are still muted. England can't hear anything in his panic. He tries to get up but none of his limbs will respond.
'Weak. Poor, poor England.'
He gasps, though whether it is out of the pain of his memories or the fear of his current situation, he doesn't know.
No…
'Poor, poor England.'
The demon is leaning down, closing in for the attack. England closes his eyes, not wanting to see the crimson pair anymore.
'Poor, poor-'
'Iggy?'
There's sound. The silence has stopped. England can hear his own frantic breathing and the blood roaring in his ears. He opens his eyes and looks up.
The dark aura around the demon is slowly dissipating. Its appearance is becoming prominent: a suit, probably for a meeting. Blonde hair. The crimson from its eyes is fading into a light blue.
England's eyes widen in shock. No. It can't be…
'Iggy?' America says softly. 'Iggy, it's me. Can you hear me?'
He looks scared. His hand is reaching out for England, quite hesitantly. England jumps violently in shock and America retracts his hand quickly. England doesn't know what to think. This can't be happening. This can't be real.
But here's his answer. Why he kept seeing the demon around the other nations, why America's eyes flashed red earlier on.
No… please, no…
America is the demon.
A lot of my reviewers were coming up with theories about America being the demon, and I gotta say I'm proud of you guys! Just to confirm for one of my readers who asked, yes, like I said back in chapter one, this will be USUK. It just so happens that I prefer it when their relationship develops over the story, as opposed to established relationship stories. And I like a good dose of angst and complications too, hence me putting in the whole Americaphobia thing England has.
As for Sealand, he's still going to be important too. I didn't just want him in the plot for him being able to hear England over those five years. Sealand's still got an important part to play. It's hard with him, because on the one hand he's this relevant character who actually possesses quite powerful magic but at the same time I want to establish that he's still this optimistic, playful, rather innocent kid. I hope I'm managing to maintain both whilst writing his character.
I want to get round to dealing with all of England's psychological issues too. He honestly deserves it by now. The other characters are quite keen to address the situation, so I expect I'll be writing some sort of confrontation scene sooner or later.
Definitely more 2P stuff next chapter, I promise!
Right, well that was quite lengthy and it has gone 1am. My bed beckons to me.
Thanks for reading, remember to review, and toodles!
