Honestly, by this point I want to wrap England up in a blanket, give him a cup of tea and tell him he's loved and everything's going to be okay. Instead, Imma just give him a bit more hell. Because reasons. XD

I think America's perspective of the last couple of days in the story deserves some acknowledgement. He's being put through a lot of crap too. So I have a couple of scenes that were previously written from England's perspective, now showing America's instead. Plus some extra stuff that England was too drunk to remember.

Warnings: the usual. Yep.

Allons-y!


Fourteen

Facing Fears

Knife. Ash.

He can almost taste the white flakes on his lips, almost hear the wolves howling in the night. Trapped between one reality and the other, England isn't sure which one he's currently living.

But as he opens his eyes, it becomes clear. The details of his hotel room come into focus. The lighting is a little brighter than it was when he was awake last, which means it's probably not night time any more.

Rationalise, his head quickly says, but his instincts are always dominant when he awakens. He throws the covers off and manages to think clearly just long enough to give him enough time to establish that he won't be too dizzy in an upright position. Once he's certain he's not going to fall over if he stands up (five seconds seem long enough to assess the situation), he climbs out of bed.

Neither France nor Canada have used the spare bed belonging to Scotland, instead both opting to use two armchairs in the corner near England's bed. They're fast asleep, appearing as if they were in a conversation before they drifted off. Probably discussing how they should go about killing England.

Rationalise, he thinks again.

No. If they were going to kill him, they would have done it by now; they've had every opportunity. If they're working with the nations in the other world then they must need him for something. After all, Other England, Other America and any others that might exist could have killed him at any point over the last five years, but they didn't. Sure, he almost died in the cell, but they stopped it from happening in the end. England has only recollected a month's worth of memories from his imprisonment in the other world so far, but he's certain his time in the cell, curtesy of Other England's first 'game', probably wasn't the only time he came close to death. He dreads to think what all the other 'games' did to him. A part of him is starting to wish he won't actually remember anymore. But he has to.

Breathe in. Rationalise. Breathe out.

Hypothetically, what if France and Canada aren't going to kill him?

England doesn't want to hope (God knows, hope never got him anywhere in the other world) but he has to approach this from every angle. He remembers only a few hours ago when Canada was helping him clear up the mirror shards, trying to make him feel better.

'If you're going to trust anyone, you should trust him,' Canada had said at the time, referring to America.

He told me to trust America. That didn't work out. I had a panic attack and collapsed at his house. Trusting America in the other world didn't work out, either.

But that was a different America.

Could it have been that Canada was tricking England into once again putting his trust in the enemy? Was this part of some elaborate plan to break England down? Because if so, it definitely worked.

Or maybe Canada was simply saying these things in an effort to help England feel safe. Perhaps he said it out of genuine concern, not treacherous intent. That sound more like the Canada England knows. That sounds like the logical answer.

(Please.)

So, if Canada is hypothetically not an enemy, what about France?

The incident the other night, right outside the hotel, concerning the confrontation between France and the demon… it has to be looked at from another angle.

The demon is America. So it was in fact a confrontation between France and America, and England interpreted a little differently because he was… hallucinating? If this is the case, then France may not be cooperating with the other world after all. He might not be an enemy.

(Please.)

England stands over the two sleeping nations, not moving an inch. He just watches for a few seconds, thinking.

Not enemies. (Please.) Not enemies.

He turns around and glances at the table beside his bed. The little clock reads 4:36am, which means England might have a little time to get his head together before he is disturbed by any of the other nations. And although France and Canada aren't currently conscious, England would prefer a little more solitude than this. Some fresh air might be good.

After freshening up in the bathroom a little, making sure to do so quietly so as not to awaken the sleeping countries, England pulls his coat on and casts one last look around the hotel room. He knows it would be too much to hope for his knife to be in here somewhere. Logically, it should be on his person in case another entity shows up, which has probably occurred to the other nations. On the other hand, they all currently think he's batshit crazy and shouldn't be in possession of a dangerous weapon with such a damaged mental state, especially since he's been having fits and doesn't trust anyone. They probably think he might lash out and hurt someone. No wonder they've taken his knife off him.

England sighs and resigns to the fact that he'll be making his journey without the blade.

He's greeted with a rather unexpected horror as he steps out of the front doors of the hotel. The sun hasn't risen yet, of course, yet the world isn't in complete darkness. It's colder than before, with a nasty chill biting at his skin the second he leaves the indoor warmth. A few cars drive past here and then but for the most part the street is fairly deserted. A street lamp overhead illuminates the surprise awaiting England.

It's snowing.


America steps out of the elevator as he reaches the ground floor, wondering whether he'll have enough time to stop by at the nearest McDonald's and grab a bite to eat before the break's over. Maybe he'll even have enough time to visit the hotel Scotland and England are staying at and visit the latter, though he suspects that his presence won't be appreciated.

America sighs. It's not that England outwardly displays dislike for America. On the contrary, England seems to be trying very hard to conceal it, but the fear is clear in his eyes and even someone like America can pick up on that.

France, Germany, Japan and Russia are walking together, heading off down a corridor in deep conversation. America hears them mention England's name a couple of times, which isn't very surprising. The recently returned nation has been the main topic of conversation for the G8, especially while England has been vacant from the meetings.

America has almost reached the front glass doors when he spots a figure on his left and turns to see England himself, on the floor and pressed up against the pillar. For once, his face is displaying the emotions and thoughts that must be running through his head, as he is probably under the impression that no one can currently see him. His expression is full of anguish and he seems frozen in place, staring ahead but not really seeing, his mind far away.

He would have heard the other nations talking about him, and something they said must have upset him. The old America might have laughed and teased England about always getting offended so easily, but England isn't the only one who has changed over the last five years. He's already treading on thin ice with England and he doubts ridiculing him is going to help.

So he smiles and steps in front of the other nation, trying to appear as friendly and agreeable as possible. 'Hey, England. What are you doing down there?'

To his horror, England's eyes widen in pure fear and he opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. He seems to press himself closer to the pillar, seemingly paralysed in fear.

America hesitates for a second, mentally cursing. He was meant to do this carefully so as not to alarm England too badly, and he has failed miserably. America feels rather scared himself at the thought of England being so terrified of him. Those green eyes are seeing right through him. Perhaps it isn't actually America that England is afraid of? Maybe England's seeing things, maybe he's just daydreaming or hallucinating or something like that. America takes a step closer. 'What's wrong?' he prompts, still wearing the smile and hoping England will recognise it. 'It's just me.' Can't you see me? What can you see instead?

England pushes himself away from the pillar and stumbles to his feet, looking very unsteady. In an instant he darts off towards the main entrance and throws himself at the doors, quickly racing off and out of sight. America calls after him but it's already too late.


That night, America heads round to Japan's hotel room, deciding that distracting himself with video games sounds like a good thing to do. Japan himself probably knows to some extent why America isn't quite as cheerful or lively as he usual. After all, the countries have all spent a significant portion of the meeting today rather tentatively mentioning England every so often as the island nation wasn't there to hear them.

Or so they think, anyway.

After a couple of hours, America makes up his mind. He's going to confront England and try and clear this all up. He's deeply unsettled by England's apparent fear of him and it will probably be in both their best interests if they somehow find a way to resolve this.

So he eventually leaves Japan's hotel room and ventures over to where Scotland and England are staying. He overheard France talking earlier about getting a drink with Scotland at the hotel bar. England might be with them.

As he reaches the front entrance, he spots France about to head into the building, just as expected. He picks up his pace, racing towards the elder nation.

'Hey, France!' he calls out.

France turns around. 'Ah, bonjour, Amérique! Will you be joining us? Écosse and I are meeting 'ere.'

America shrugs and grins. 'Scotland probably won't want me there, let's be honest. Besides, I, uh… came to see England. Will he be with you guys?'

France sighs. 'One can 'ope.' Then he shakes his head and laughs, as if the mere motion is ridiculous. 'Who would 'ave thought, me actually wishing for Angleterre's company! In any case, 'e will probably just 'ide away in 'is room. That is, if 'e doesn't decide to go for a walk instead. Écosse says 'e does that a lot.'

America lets out a laugh. 'Well, I guess I just gotta hope he's there, huh? And that he'll want to see me.'

He doesn't actually mean to say that last part aloud and immediately regrets it.

There's a pitying look on France's face. 'Don't let it upset you, Amérique. Angleterre… 'e doesn't mean to behave this way, that much is clear.' He reaches up and puts a reassuring hand on America's shoulder. 'I'm sure you'll both be able to work your way around it and resolve any problems. I don't think 'e can 'elp the way 'e acts around everyone, including you. And you know 'e cares about you very deeply.'

America scoffs, but he's feeling quite warm inside. 'Dude, cut it out. The sap is gross. And this is Iggy we're talking about. The guy pretty much only cares about tea,' he jokes.

France smiles. 'Well, I'm going inside. Are you coming?'

America ponders this for a second. 'Just a few more minutes. I, uh… I'm gonna think things through a little.'

France nods wisely. 'Don't 'urt yourself.'

'Hey!'

Laughing, France walks over to the entrance and disappears inside, and America stands there for a second, beginning to think through exactly what he should say to England.

He only has a few minutes to gather his thoughts, however, before he is greeted with the sight of England himself, exiting the building in a furious pace, an icy scowl printed quite clearly on his features. He turns right and walks in the opposite direction from the one America was approaching the hotel from.

America remembers how Scotland mentioned earlier on in the meeting today that England went out for a walk in the dead of night and didn't return until the morning. Perhaps this is just another late night wondering. But where exactly did England go last night? Where is he going this time?

The second question is answered fairly quickly. As America follows the other nation down the next couple of streets, he notices England is heading for a bar. America breathes a sigh of relief. Here's one thing that hasn't changed about England; it's almost reassuring.

Being the hero, though, America should probably stop it from happening. England can't hold his liquor very well and will likely start complaining about all his problems very loudly after a few pints, which has always seemed quite pitiful, honestly. At least, that's what the old England was like, but who knows what the new England will be like when he's intoxicated?

Then an idea strikes America. That's exactly what he wants England to do, isn't it? To open up. He wants England to be honest so that the two of them can work around this problem of theirs. Maybe he'll talk about whatever he might be hiding from the other nations, such as any memories that might be resurfacing. And if England is even a shred of like what he was like before whenever he was drunk, then there's hope.

America isn't the sort of person who analyses situations like this. He doesn't tend to think things through this much, and instead runs straight into dilemmas without much prior thought. He's not stupid, per se, but he's more of a shoot first, ask questions later kind of individual. But right now, he's evaluating every possibility he can think of. He's taking this as seriously as possible.

Is this wrong? Letting England get drunk so that he can get some answers? A hero wouldn't do something like that, especially considering how upset England will probably be when he sobers up and realises what has happened. But America remembers England's expression as he was leaving the hotel room. Something has upset him badly. He's stressed and angry and probably feels as if he needs a drink. If America robs him of that then he's going to be even more enraged and he won't open up at all.

America reaches a conclusion. Two pints, maximum. That should at least satisfy England a little, and won't be going too far. America will intervene after that. He enters the bar and stands near to door, watching as England orders his first beer. He wonders why the Brit isn't simply drinking at the hotel bar with Scotland and France, then remembers that England and France aren't very good at playing nice and England is famous for not exactly having a perfect relationship with his elder brothers. Maybe France and Scotland are the reason England looks so pissed off right now.

The second beer comes soon enough, and the Brit downs it just as quickly as the one before. America steps forward, then hesitates a little. It's only now just occurring to him that England might not react well to seeing him and he might have another incident like the one earlier on his hands. But he has to do something.

'Another one,' England mutters to the bartender.

'Probably not such a good idea, man,' America advises, taking a seat beside him and shooting a grin at the other nation in the hope of establishing that this is nothing more than a friendly encounter. He's relieved to see that the glare England sends him is composed mostly of irritation and not blind panic, though there is still some fear lingering in the background. So even alcohol isn't dulling that paranoia.

'What are you doing here?' England demands. It's almost as if he's completely forgotten their earlier encounter. Maybe he has. Maybe he really was seeing something else when he looked at America earlier.

'Stopping you from getting wasted to the point where you can't walk. I'm not carrying you back.'

'It doesn't have to be any of your concern if you just leave,' England says irritably. 'How'd you know where to find me?'

'I was in the neighbourhood,' America says casually. He doesn't hold any illusions about needing to lie. That's neither necessary nor preferable. He just hopes that England will pay him the same curtesy. 'Japan's not staying far away from your hotel and we were gaming. I saw France earlier too. He said he was getting a drink with Scotland. Shouldn't you be doing this with them?'

'Why on earth would I want to?'

It looks as if getting England to leave is going to be a bit difficult.

'I spotted you leaving the hotel not long after,' America continues. 'It's only round the corner, anyway. You didn't do a very good job of getting away this time.'

'I wasn't trying to get away, I was trying to get drunk. I'm still trying.'

'Yeah, I figured I should probably intervene after a couple of pints. Sorry, dude.'

'I'm not stopping-'

America interrupts him by grabbing his arm and is hauling him away from the bar. America can feel England tense up but keeps his hold anyway, knowing that he should get England away from this bar now. It's the right thing to do.

'I'm so stupid,' England sobs rather abruptly once they're out on the street. His voice sounds rather broken.

America is shocked by this sudden display of emotion, but he manages to get out a chuckle in the hopes of lightening the situation. It seems that England is still capable of being an emotional drunk after all, and America isn't entirely sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing right now. He might get answers but at what cost? England is clearly quite distraught.

'Dude, you need to chill. You always used to get drunk. You haven't even had too much this time, don't worry,' America reassures him.

England seems to be able to walk just fine, but America keeps a hold on him, just in case he does become a little unsteady. England might want to talk if he feels more comfortable, such as in the privacy of his hotel room, provided Scotland and France don't join them.

When they reach the hotel, however, England starts to panic. 'No, no,' he refuses, struggling his way out of America's hold. 'I'm not going back in there. I'm not seeing them.'

'Who? Scotland? France?' America must have been right before. Something the other two nations have done has upset England.

'I'd rather sleep in the bloody park again,' the Brit says stubbornly.

'Park? What park?'

England doesn't seem to have any plans on answering America. He merely glares at the hotel, a little wobbly on his feet, and repeats, 'I'm not going back in there.'

America tilts his head in confusion. It's not like he's going to force England to talk to France and Scotland or anything. He can still keep to avoiding them once he goes in if he wants to. But England's already agitated enough and America doesn't want to push it. 'Um. Okay. Well, sleeping outdoors isn't a great idea, Iggy. You can stay at my place tonight.'

England appears as if he wants to refuse this, but then thinks better of it. 'Fine,' he mutters. 'Thanks.'

America sighs in relief. Finally, England is cooperating.


The alcohol is really taking effect now, America can tell. England's gaze is a little unfocused once they reach America's house and he sways unnervingly without something stable to hold onto. He seems pretty out of it too, and America doubts he'll remember much of it in the morning.

America finds a spare shirt and some boxers that England can use for the night. Upon entering the house, however, the Brit seems focused on one thing in particular. He allows himself to sit down on America's sofa but he is on edge, rummaging rather wildly in his coat pockets, oblivious to the rest of the world.

'Whatcha looking for?' America asks playfully as he lays out the night clothes on the spot next to England.

'M-my knife,' England slurs, his voice rather high pitched.

America falters. 'Oh. Right. Why, uh… why do you, um, need it?'

'Just need to know it's there,' England whispers. His hands are shaking.

America bites his lip. That knife is super scary looking. It sliced through the entity, a creature that was strong enough to blast a holes in walls, in a matter of seconds. And the way England is always checking he has it on him is unnerving.

'I'm sure be okay tonight without it,' America says, making his voice as cheerful as possible.

England's eyes widen. 'No. No. I- I need it. It has to be here. I can't- I can't- I need-'

His hysterical voice breaks off as his hand finally fumbles around with the hilt of the blade. He lets out a shaky, relieved breath.

America has seen England in all manner of psychological states in the past, but he's not sure he's ever witnessed him as this much of a nervous wreck before. The closest thing he can compare it to is the shell-shocked state England was in during the last few months of 1916.

'There, see? It was there all along,' America reassures him, not happy to see the knife himself but glad that England is at least content. He wouldn't know the first thing about dealing with England having a panic attack and he's glad that it's been avoided. 'You don't have to go back to the hotel and get it,' he adds as a joke.

England's eyes narrow. 'I'm not going back. I'm not seeing them.'

'Scotland and France?'

England nods. America notices that despite the averted crisis, England's hands are still shaking.

'What happened?' America asks, wondering if England will give him an answer.

It's as if England can't really hear him. He simply stares down at his knife and mutters, 'Bastards. Talking behind my back… things that shouldn't be said… didn't want people knowing…'

So he overheard Scotland and France talking behind his back? About 'things that shouldn't be said', things he clearly didn't want people finding out about. No wonder England is angry. In addition, he must still be quite upset about overhearing the other nations at the meeting place earlier.

'Said he wanted to help… said he cared…' England continues quietly. He's seemingly forgotten America is there. 'Just… gave up… looking for me… said I was dead…'

Oh. Oh no. England knows about that?

On that first day of the G8, once they'd all gone back to America's house, Scotland had made himself very clear. England hadn't been particularly happy about being in the room with everyone else, so he had eventually ventured out for a little break in America's back garden. Scotland clearly wasn't comfortable with England being left alone so he'd opted to join him outside. Before joining England outside, however, he'd decided to level with the other nations.

'I haven't told him yet,' Scotland had said. 'He doesn't know that I'm the one who announced he was dead. I still haven't figured out how the hell I got it wrong. His connection to Wales and I was definitely cut off. I don't understand it.'

Germany had frowned. 'You shouldn't be keeping that from him.'

'I know,' Scotland's voice was full of remorse. 'I'm not sure how I'm supposed to explain it to him. He'll misinterpret it. He'll probably think I wanted him dead or something. I'll figure out a way to tell him.'

'The longer you wait, the angrier he'll be,' Japan had advised.

Scotland sighed. 'I know. And I will tell him. I'll explain everything. But until then, I would appreciate it if yeh could all keep quiet 'bout it in front of him. He shouldn't have to find out any other way.' He'd looked rather purposely at America while he spoke. Of course, he probably suspected that of all the nations, America would be the one most likely to tell England.

America wonders now if this little episode with England right here is the result of Scotland finally getting round to telling England the truth. Or maybe England ended up finding out another way? America debates internally on whether he should try reasoning with England. But he is honestly the last person who should be defending Scotland, considering how at odds they were over England's disappearance.

But should he try anyway? Not for Scotland, but for England. The Brit is clearly misinterpreting it, just like Scotland feared he would, and as a result he's worked himself into a bit of a state.

England mumbles something else, his voice now so low that America can hardly hear it. He does catch out one word though- France- and he wonders if maybe France had a hand in explaining the truth to England.

'Come on, dude,' America says, taking a step towards England and wondering if he'll have to pull him up. 'You're wasted, man. You should go to bed.'

England blinks up at him, dazed, seemingly realising that he isn't alone. He lets out a 'mph' of submission and tries to stand up by himself. When he almost topples over backwards, America reaches out and holds him steady. England freezes yet again at the touch. America pretends not to notice.

As they're heading up the stairs, England mutters, 'Sorry.'

America squints in the semi darkness. 'Huh?'

England's gaze is a million miles away. He's barely here and certainly isn't going to remember this in the morning. ''S'not your fault. I think. Don't und'stand it. But 's'not your fault.'

America swallows. Is England talking about this fear he has of America? He's about to ask when he realises it's too late anyway. England's eyes are dulling over. He's barely conscious now.

America makes sure England stays awake long enough to change his clothes and get into bed, and then closes the door, wondering what the hell he's supposed to make of this.


It's not unheard of, a little early snow around these parts. It's almost December, after all. And the weather has been getting colder.

America sips his coffee slowly and stares out the window at white snowflakes drifting down. It's not heavy and it's not really settling on the ground. It will probably pass quite quickly.

His mind drifts to the day before yesterday, at the building they were temporarily using as a substitute meeting place. England had been there, seemingly unbeknownst to everyone else, listening to what they were saying to him. And when America had approached him…

England had been better, later on in the bar. Still on edge, still paranoid, still fearful, but not as completely terrified as he had been at the meeting. That time round, it felt like England was seeing him properly, as opposed to earlier on in the day when it was if England was seeing something else in America's place.

Maybe it's not actually me he's scared of. Maybe he keeps seeing something else when he looks at me, America allows himself to wonder, though he doesn't want to get too hopeful. He's scared that he might be wrong.

'Don't let it worry you, America-san,' comes Japan's voice from behind him, and he turns away from the window to see his friend standing in the doorway. America is currently in the living room of his house, having just finished breakfast.

Japan stayed the night, partly as company and partly as a… necessary precaution. Not that anyone phrased it like that in front of America, but those were the words he heard Wales using yesterday when he thought America wasn't listening. As far as certain nations are concerned, it would be in everyone's best interests if someone kept an eye on America at all times. Not that anyone is definitely pointing fingers or anything- as Germany rather hastily pointed out yesterday- but some measures had to be taken in the very least.

Not only is Scotland blaming America for the fall, but it must look highly suspicious how England came round to his house and had a nervous breakdown upon coming face to face with him. The fear in England's eyes was just the same as it was the other day in the meeting room. The same wild look that was there on the day of the second meeting, when England spent the whole morning glaring at America.

It's like he's looking straight through him.

America had phoned the other nations as soon as England had collapsed, of course. This was before he even knew what had happened to Scotland, let alone that he was being held accountable for it. He'd laid England to rest on his bed and had ventured downstairs to find a rather frightened looking Sealand, which was understandable as England had been screaming at him to run.

America didn't know how to explain to the micronation what had happened, partly because the child was rather scared enough already and partly because he himself had no damn idea what had just taken place. So he had told Sealand that England wasn't feeling very well and reassured him that Wales and the others would be arriving soon enough.

Wales wasn't blunt (not like how Scotland had apparently been in the hospital). He didn't accuse America openly, though there was certainly suspicion on his face. He may not have had any intention of accepting what Scotland had been telling everyone, but with England lying unconscious in America's house as the result of a massive panic attack, he had clearly begun to suspect that America might have done something. Maybe not something as drastic as Scotland's attempted murder, but definitely something.

As always, Russia was the one to speak the uncomfortable truth. 'Nobody wants to believe America did any of it, but everyone is a little anxious from these suggestable events nonetheless,' he had said pleasantly as if this wasn't a problem at all. 'America is probably not guilty at all, but maybe someone should stay here with him and keep an eye on him.' The chilling smile sent America's way implied that Russia was more than comfortable assuming this position.

Japan volunteered pretty quickly in Russia's place. 'I can stay with America-san. I'm sure we all know he didn't do it,' he had said, and America had been relieved to see each remaining member of the G8 nodding in agreement. Even Wales offered no argument at all.

'These recent events, however, have thrown this into question…' Japan continued and America had felt coldness wash over him. His stomach lurched uncomfortably.

'… which leads me to the conclusion that this is a very deliberate move on someone else's part,' Japan had finished. 'I believe that someone has worked hard to try and frame America-san.'

Russia nodded thoughtfully, looking rather happy at the thought of a new puzzle to solve. 'That sounds probable. And very interesting. I wonder if whoever are responsible are one and the same with those who took England in the first place.'

There had been more words after that, but America had unintentionally tuned them out by that point. The relief was enough to deafen him to any further debate.

Japan and Italy had spent the rest of the day watching over Sealand, while France and Canada had taken England back to his hotel room. Germany, Wales and Russia had spent a little more time discussing matters at America's house and America pretended to listen, though he was more concerned with who might be trying to frame him, and how and why they'd managed to screw England up that badly in the head.

By the evening, the other three nations had left and Japan had returned, choosing to stay with America anyway, though his motives were purely in an act of concern for his friend and not because he felt the need to keep an eye on him.

America hasn't really slept that well and this new day is only going to bring more problems. England will regain consciousness at some point and as blameless as everyone might genuinely believe America to be, they'll probably decide it's best if America and England avoid contact for now.

And what's Scotland going to be saying about all of this? Wales must have told him about England's episode. He'll probably know that it happened in America's house. All the more reason to suspect America.

'I'm not worried at all,' America laughs, shoving all these thoughts to the back of his mind. 'I mean, come on, Scotland's argument is weak! They can't honestly accuse the hero of being the villain!'

Japan gives an exasperated smile and takes a seat in one of the armchairs, lifting a cup of herbal tea to his lips.

The rare moment of silence is broken by the phone ringing. America picks it up instantly.

'Hello?'

'Is he with you?' It's Wales, and he sounds on edge.

'Who?'

'Is England there with you?' Wales demands.

'What? No. He's with Canada and France, isn't he?' America frowns. Has England run off again?

'He was gone by the time they woke up,' Wales says testily. 'Sealand and I are staying at this hotel too, in a different room, but he didn't come to us. Regardless of my brother's… current attitude towards you, he still ran to you yesterday. I want to know if he's chosen to do the same thing again.'

'Why would he do that?'

'I don't know. No matter what state he's in mentally, he was very adamant on proving your innocence yesterday. He may be scared, but he still… still cares about you quite a lot, clearly. So please- if he's there, please just… just tell me. I'm worried.'

'He's not here,' America replies. Across the room, Japan is tilting his head in confusion.

Wales takes a deep breath and America prepares himself for what is about to come. Over the last five years, he has gathered that Wales is certainly the most laid back of the British Isles, but with everything that's happened to his family, even Wales must have his limits.

'If you're lying to me…' Wales begins.

America feels himself getting angry. As if being accused of attempted murder and having his long lost friend scared to death of him isn't enough already. So much for Mr Nice Guy; America has limits too.

'Listen,' he growls, and from the chair opposite him Japan's eyes widen in shock. America hardly ever shows this side of himself. 'He is not here. If he was here, I would tell you. What, you think I've captured him or something? You think I really am responsible for all of this?'

'No,' Wales says calmly, his voice a little gentler. He seems quite taken aback with America's response. 'I thought maybe he had shown up there and asked you not to reveal his location. I thought maybe you were lying for him.'

'He's not here,' America repeats. 'You can ask Japan if you want.'

'How long has England-san been missing?' Japan asks, concerned.

'He was gone when Canada and France woke up, apparently,' America replies.

'He could have left at any point in the night,' Wales continues. 'He hasn't got his knife, though. Germany's holding onto it for now. I mean, on the one hand he has nothing to protect himself with if another one of those creatures shows up… but on the other hand… at least he won't end up accidentally hurting anyone else… or himself.'


Psychological trauma. Most likely triggered by severe physical abuse. Highly probable that extreme mental torture played a part as well.

Every point that makes sense in each article Wales reads online about victims of abuse, he has taken note of. Speaking to psychiatrists about England's problem isn't really going to work now, considering so much of it is wrapped up in the supernatural, which of course isn't a logically accepted reason for all of this.

Aside from America, Wales naturally phones the rest of the G8 too. Most of them are just waking up as the final meeting for the G8 conference takes place today. He phones the hospital too, asking whether Scotland's had any visitors today, but they tell him that visiting hours don't start yet. So Wales can definitely rule out the hospital as a place England might have headed. He doesn't ask to speak to Scotland because he decides that a proper search for England should be conducted before the eldest brother is informed, as Scotland shouldn't be put under stress in his current predicament.

Wales sighs deeply and tries to remind himself of the other nations telling him that no matter how often England goes off without a trace, he always comes back eventually.

But it took him five years the first time round, and Wales isn't eager to repeat that again.

I should have been with him. He could have chosen to do so. When he'd picked up Sealand from Italy and Japan, who were looking after the micronation for the afternoon while Wales smoothed everything out with several other nations, the two had arrived at the hotel where they'd be staying. The same hotel England and Scotland have been staying at.

He'd visited England's room to check on him and had been informed that the other Brit had actually woken up briefly and had been quite sick. But France and Canada had reassured Wales that they'd be fine staying here with England overnight.

I should have asked France and Canada to stay with Sealand. I should have watched over England myself.

But he hadn't. And now it's too late anyway.

'Why did you run?' Wales mutters in distress as he finishes the last phone call. 'You were safe with them. Why can't you see that? Where could you be?'

His phone buzzes with a new message: Just arrived. Got your text. Any idea where he might be?

He stares down at a notepad he has in front of him. In a haste, scribbling down any information the other nations have been able to come up with, Wales has a list of all the locations England might be, to his knowledge. Aside from the two separate buildings that have been used for the G8 conference, the hotel, the hospital, America's house and any of the other hotels the other nations are staying at, Wales has nothing.

No clue, he replies. And you didn't have to come.

Too late now anyway. Besides, didn't wanna miss all this excitement. And you need all the help you can get.

'You missed the park,' Sealand says quietly, nibbling on a piece of toast as he peers over Wales's shoulder at the notepad.

The older nation swivels round on his seat and stares at him. 'What?'

Sealand shrugs, trying to look rather casual, though he has been unusually silent since France and Canada came bursting in with the news that England had disappeared. 'The park. He likes it there. We were headed there yesterday after we left America's house, before you called about Scotland.'

Wales blinks. 'Park? Which park?'

'Not sure what it's called,' Sealand replies, though a little more energy seems to be returning to him. 'But I know where it is. He said he slept there one night.'

Wales is silent for a few moments, watching his little brother in shock. 'Sea, that's… that's brilliant. Thank you.'

Sealand grins. 'Are we gonna go find the jerk now?'

Wales smiles. 'Yes. Hopefully. I'll just tell the others.'

He picks up his phone and quickly sends out a message.

We think we know where England might be.


I wanted to show the scene between France and America from America's perspective for one key reason. Unbeknownst to the two, England is watching from the balcony, misinterpreting it as France working with 'the demon'. Of course, England now knows that the demon he's been seeing all along is actually America. England has often tried to remind himself the demon isn't really a demon but is in fact someone who happens to have demonic red eyes, their appearance mostly clouded from vision. But now he remembers more about his torture, he is aware that this 'demon' is actually the other America.

One theory you guys came up with was that 2P America was somehow possessing America in this world. I like that theory (and did originally consider it) but I decided in the end for this to actually be England simply hallucinating. It's quite easy for him to look at America and see the red eyes and feel all that fear because 2P America actually adopted his 1P counterpart's appearance whilst torturing England, save for the eyes. America doesn't simply remind England of 2P America. It's so much worse than that. England was tricked into a false sense of security and then tortured by someone he genuinely for a substantial amount of time thought to be America himself.

I chose to do this to establish how badly the 2Ps messed England up in the head. England tends to be quite conscious of his psychological state and has a consistent lack of faith in his own mental stability. He's scared he's gone insane, and with the knowledge that he really has been hallucinating all along, this pretty much confirms it for him.

Well, that was depressing. XD

To everyone who actually managed to get through all that, congratulations, thanks for reading, and remember to review!

Toodles!