Looks like I have managed to instigate some kind of schedule. This chapter and the last have both been posted on the first of the month, although I have tended to finish them a few days earlier and then wait a little so that I can uphold this schedule. Look at that, I'm finally organised! Although as for the first of November... I don't think I'll be posting it then. The fifth of November sounds better to me ;)

(Please don't hold me to that. I'm literally waiting for the moment I relapse into a random, disorganised updating schedule. Knowing me, it's coming. Soon. I just hope not.)

I apologise for the amount of ellipses and hyphens in this chapter. England is stuttering a lot.

In several of my stories I've used theme songs and included the lyrics in certain chapters. Ash Song is no exception, it would seem. The song is So Close by Ólafur Arnalds and Arnór Dan from the ITV crime drama Broadchurch.

Allons-y!


Fifteen

Everything Lost

Through dark and light I fight to be
So close
Shadows and lies mask you from me

'Go back,' the fae whisper. 'Go back to them. They want to help you.'

'They c… can't help me,' England whispers. 'They w… won't.'

He stands at the edge of the half frozen pond. The fresh sheet of ice is extremely thin and only really covers little areas of the water. England has spent the last few hours sitting at the edge of the water, deep in thought. Only now is he deciding to take whatever action he can. The park will probably open up pretty soon so he won't have much longer in this solitude.

'Why am I s-still alive?' he mumbles to himself.

'Why shouldn't you be?' the fae ask.

'Because I w… was dead to this world. I was c-cut off,' England replies, his teeth chattering. The weather really has become so unexpectedly cold over the course of the night. 'I w… was as g-good as dead. Here, anyway. Here, n… not there.'

He remembers Other England saying this to him when he first arrived in their world, washed up on the riverbank and falling apart inside from the pain in his chest and the ash burning in his eyes. 'This is what it was. This is what it will always be. Here, not there.'

That's what it's like in the other London. That's what it's been like since the Gunpowder Plot itself, England guesses. They burn the city each year to commemorate the anniversary. And he thinks he knows why that might be.

'This other world you were in,' the fae murmur. 'It left its mark on you. Not just the ones in your head and on your body. It left a mark on your soul. We can see it. We never knew where you had gone, or even if you were still alive, but once you had returned it was clear that you hadn't been in this world. The Otherworld has branded you. Your soul is... tethered to it. It still is, even now.'

England taps the ice with his index finger. The sheet is so thin that it cracks with a single, gentle touch.

'Is that w… why I keep seeing them?' he asks, leaning down and reaching out with his hand to run his fingers over the thin sheet of ice. 'Why I k-keep hallucinating the n… nations in the Otherworld? B-Because a part of m-me is... still connected t… to their dimension? Or is it just because I'm c… crazy?'

England pauses, his fingers just centimetres away from the water, now trickling over the cracked ice. 'A-and the countries f… from this world? Was I ever r… right to d-distrust them? Do they unsettle m… me simply because th-they remind me of their... c-counterparts?'

'Go back to your fellow nations, here in this world,' the fae advise him. 'Their concern for you is genuine. You needn't distrust them.'

'N… not even...'

'None of them have been touched by the darkness of this other world that took you,' the fae say firmly.

Just me, England thinks. 'So why d-do I keep seeing-?'

'Your eyes see what your broken, pained mind tells them to see,' the fae say quietly. 'Your soul, however chained, however damaged, however hurt, remembers. The good and the bad. You are torn between both worlds. Perhaps one more so than the other.'

So close
Bathe my skin, the darkness within

England dips his hand into the water absent-mindedly. The cold bites at his skin and sends shivers up his arms but he doesn't seem to notice. The fae hover around anxiously, waiting for England to reach a conclusion.

'W-why?' he says finally. 'I'm n… not one of them. They already h-have an England in th-their w… world. What g-good am I to them?'

Silence rings across the icy pond. Although the snow was an unpleasant shock for England, he is reassured by the fact that this is genuinely snow and not ash. In addition, the sudden cold weather is probably going to keep the majority of people away from the park. He has no idea what time it is but it must be getting close to opening times for the park.

He swirls his hand around in the water a little, watching the little shards of ice break apart. Will France and Canada have woken up and noticed his absence by now? He feels a twinge of guilt settle in his stomach. Perhaps he should have left a note like he did with Scotland the other morning. He can't text or call anyone; he left his phone in the hotel room. Less of a chance of being disturbed that way.

England pulls his hand out of the water and stares down and his pale, freezing skin. 'I d… don't think it w-would be safe if I go back. B-back to the countries in th… this world, I mean. I think I sh… should stay away f-from them.'

The fae aren't pleased. 'They are not your enemies. You know that. Your soul knows that. They are not a danger to you.'

'N… no, they're not,' England agrees quietly. 'B-but… I am to th-them.'

'How so?' the fae ask carefully.

'W-well, I'm c…crazy, aren't I? I w-want my knife with m… me at all times and I'm seeing everything d-different to how it r… really is…' He leans back and pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs in a tight little ball. Even like this, he doesn't feel comfortable. If anything, it feels as if he is trapped by his own arms. He's too still in this position. He begins to rock back and forth rhythmically, not taking his eyes off the frozen pond.

'Th… that demon. It w-was never a d… demon. Up until y-yesterday, I c-could only ever m… make out its eyes. The r-rest of it was just sh-shrouded in darkness, b-because I c-couldn't remember who it w-was or w… what they looked like. B-but n-now the darkness is g-gone because I k… know who it was…'

'England…' the fae begin gently.

'It w-was him,' England whispers. 'Every t-time I saw it. I w… was really l-looking at him. At A… Am…'

'England, it's alright. It can get better. You mustn't hide or run. You won't heal this way,' the fae say.

'Sometimes wh... when I l-look at him I s... see th-the... the other him. B-because the other him w-was m... made to look exactly l... like him.'

Whoever cast the enchantment on Other America to make him look exactly like his doppelgänger captured his likeness completely, save for his eyes. But there was that brief moment where his image had shimmered and England had caught a glimpse of what Other America really looks like: brown hair, tanned skin and that wicked smile.

England bites his lip and closes his eyes. 'Wh... what if I'd d-done something? Every t-time I hallucinat-ted the other v... version of him and not Am... Am-merica himself...' He falters upon saying America's name. A violent shudder runs through his body and he feels like punching the ice beside him. 'W-whenever I saw... him instead, I w... would p-panic and g... get away because I was so s... scared. But w-what if I'd d-done something w... worse? What if I'd... u-used my kn-knife to p... protect myself, w-without realising it was r... really Am... Ame... rica...?'

He can feel the warm glow of the fae beside him. They have come closer in an effort to comfort him. The fae have so far been the only beings left who can make England feel at ease like they did the other night when he sought their company. But magic hasn't been kind to him. That entity was the product of a dark ritual. Other America's false appearance was the result of an enchantment. And of course there was also the familiar traces of magical residue on the mirror shards. Even magic has turned its back on England. He no longer feels reassured by the faes' ethereal presence. The energy radiating from them makes him think only of how magic was used to hurt him.

So close
The war of our lives no one can win

'Th-that's how I'm a d... danger to them,' he says, hoping the fae won't notice his discomfort. 'I c-can't be trusted... I genuinely thought Am-merica and F... France were both trying to hurt m-me. I g-got s-so paranoid th-that I actually w-wondered if C-Canada m-might want to hurt me t-too. I was w... willing to believe th... that almost anyone c-could be my enemy. And I'm still n-not sure n-now.'

He lifts a shaking hand to his forehead. 'B-because in m... my head it's all j-jumbled up and seems ridiculous b-but at the same t... time it makes sense. And I don't know w-why. Or m... maybe I do, and I j-just wish it didn't.' He opens his eyes to reveal that they are shimmering with tears. 'W-what if I attack someone? What if I see s-something the wrong way and I p... panic and try t-to protect myself a... and I end up hurting s... someone?'

'You won't...' the fae murmur faintly, but England isn't listening.

'So... you see w-why I can't g... go back to them...'

'You can. They will help you get better, and then you won't have to worry about harming anyone.'

'B-but, it's n... not just that,' England whispers.

'You're still scared of them,' the fae finish for him. 'A part of you is still convinced that they might hurt you.'

'I'll s... stay away. It's b-better this w... way.'

'And where will you go? Back to the other world?'

'N-no!' England is horrified. 'I... I... they... w-what they d... did to me...'

'Yet you feel drawn to that world, and to them,' the fae remark solemly.

'Th-they're drawn to m... m... me!' England replies. His words are shakier and taking even longer to come out. It must be the damn cold. He shouldn't stay by the pond much longer. 'Th-th-they're following m... me around in r... reflections and they sent th-that entity after m-me.'

Why the hell should hebe drawn to that world? After what they... what they did to him, he shouldn't feel connected to it at all. But he's only got a month's worth of memories back so far. What the hell happened during the remaining four years and eleven months? It can't have been better. It must have all been like a terrible nightmare, trapped a world he was didn't belong in.

But he remembers how he had sat in the G8 on the second day with his fellow nations and he had been convinced that he wasn't one of them anymore, to which a voice in his head which he has since identified as Other America's had whispered, 'You're one of us.'

And then he thinks about he felt London in the other world burning, even though it wasn't really his London. About how he actually physically felt it, as if it was connected to him and he was a part of that world. He thinks about how the fae told him that that his soul is tethered to the other dimension. About how he is torn between both worlds, perhaps one more so than the other.

'You are dead, but not really,' Other England had said.

Dead to my own world. Cut off from it. Connected to a new world. One of them.

'N-no...' England moans. He feels sick.

'England?' the fae ask worriedly.

England buries his head in the folds of the fabric on his sleeves, squeezing his eyes shut.

'England?' the fae try again, sounding very uncertain.

'H… h… how do I b-break it?' comes England's muffled voice. 'Th… the connection b-between the other w… world a… and I?'

'We… we don't know,' the fae admit.

'It sh-should be over,' England continues, his voice breaking a little. 'I'm b-back n… now. It should b-be over. W… why isn't it over? D… do they w-want me to go b… back to them? W-why? Why me? W… why did they take m-me in the f… first place? W-why are they s… still coming after m-me? W-what do they w… want f-from me?'

But he still hasn't found any answers. Not in this world. He will do, eventually, he's sure, but that will mean enduring the return of more memories. Perhaps it will finally make sense when all of the five years have come back to him. But he doesn't want that.

He lifts his head up, a strange neutral expression crossing his face. '… I think I know what I have to do,' he says calmly. The fae stare at him. It's the first sentence he has managed to get out without stuttering.

'What you have to do?' the fae echo cautiously.

England nods. 'I… I'm sick of b-being scared. And weak. I have to d… do this.'

He unwraps his arms from around his knees and pushes himself to his feet, leaning on a nearby tree for help.

'Th… this has to end. One w… way or another,' he says.

'England?' the fae ask once more.

'I have t-to… to know why,' England continues. 'And I don't w… want it to be through m-my memories. They're t… too much. Th-that's how I'm so w-weak,' he adds, laughing bitterly. 'I'm t-too scared to accept anym… more memories. I think I c-can really believe it n-now. M… my brothers suspected m-my amnesia was self-ind… duced. Of course I m… made myself forget. Of c-course I w… would have wanted t-to forget. I'm g… going to do it again, if I c… can.'

'What?' the fae say in shock.

'N-no more,' England says quietly. 'No m… more. I can't b-bear it.'

A missing piece I yearn to find
So close
Please clear the anguish from my mind

He takes a step closer to the pond. 'I'm g... going to b-break the connection b... between their w... world and th-this one. B-between them and I. I h... have to seal it somehow. I'll n-need your help th... though. I'm having a l-little trouble g-getting my w... words out right n-now, so s... speaking the incantations c... clearly is g-going to be a b-bit of a p... problem. This d-damn cold,' he adds, laughing bitterly. 'Of c-course it had t... to start snowing...'

He lifts up his right hand and holds it over the frozen waters. 'I n-need to at l... least figure out w-why they want m... me. There has t-to be a r... reason why th-they took me, and w-why they're s... still not done with m-me. If they n-need something... if they're p... planning something... it l-looks as if I'm the only o... one who's g-got a chance of f... figuring this out.'

He glances up at the fae hovering above him. 'I'll f... find out w-what I can, and th-then I'm g... going to d-do what I c... can to separate the t-two worlds f... for good and m-make sure n... no more memories c-come back.'

'If you intend erase your memories of their world, won't you forget whatever it is you wish to learn about them?' the fae interject.

'N-not if I'm c... careful. The only m-memories I w-want to remove are of my t... time spent in th-their world. Anything th... that happened since I c-came back... anything that happened in th-this world, should s-stay intact. Hopefully. So if I l-learn from them here and n-now, it should b... be okay. All I w-want to forget is w... what they d-did to me...'

'England, we advise you strongly against this,' the fae say hastily. 'Tampering with your memory, especially in your current state, could have disastrous effects. And how do you plan on obtaining information from their world?'

England has gone very pale. His lips are trembling. 'I'm g-going to t... talk to them, of c-course.'

This prompts an immediate outburst from the fae. They instantly swarm around England in mass panic. 'You mustn't!' their little voices call out in distress. 'To do that, you'd have to make an opening between the two worlds!'

'J-just a little o... one,' England murmurs. 'Just t-to talk through the r... reflection. Th-that's all.'

'They could take advantage of the opening! They might pull you into their world again! Or find their own way into this one!'

'It's alright. I'll b... be careful. B-besides, I have y... you all to help me, d-don't I?' England gives a weak smile. 'And a... after I've learnt f-from them w... what I can, I'll t-try to seal off b-both worlds from each other f... forever. O-once the connection is b... broken I'll w-wipe clean whatever brand they've m... made on my soul and r-remove my memories of w-what they did to m... me.'

'England, this could go very, very wrong-'

'And if it d-does, it does,' England remarks, a rather hollow edge to his voice. He thinks back to the night before, when Canada and France were coaxing him back to sleep. In the end, he just gave in. He succumbed to sleep as easily as he accepted his seemingly inevitable death in that cell in the other world. Nothing about sleep or death, or sleep and death, frightened him on both occasions. He was too tired. Too apathetic by that point. And so he re-evaluates this these two instances and concludes why, at the end of the day, the thought of his own life ending doesn't bother him.

If he fails to get the damage out of his head, then the pain won't go away. And England is too tired to face it anymore.

So close
But when the truth of you comes near

The pond begins to brighten up with a gradually increasing glow. England staggers a little as he projects his magic down on the water. What's left of the thin, dwindling ice begins to crack and break apart.

'If I d-die,' he says calmly. 'I die. Nothing more t... to it. A p-part of me wishes I c... could care, but I c-can't. And that's j-just how it is n... now. Either I f-find a way t-to remove the p... pain or I lose my l-life in the process. Either way, it won't hurt anymore. It won't be t-too difficult for the o... other countries to accept that I'm d-dead. I m... mean, look at all the p-practice they've had...' America never did. '… and th-they'll probably h... have a body this t-time as proof.'

'England, no,' the fae plead with him. 'We will not assist you in ending your own life.'

'I might n-not die,' England replies. 'L-like I said, it could g... go either way.'

'What if the gateway opens up too far and they manage to get into this world? What if you get pulled back into theirs?' The fae sound terrified, clearly having realised that there will be no persuading England otherwise.

'You c... close it off,' England says. 'The m-moment I'm incapacit-tated, the moment anything g... goes wrong, seal it. Don't let th-them in. D-don't let them t... touch this world. Not even for a s-single second.' He takes a deep breath. 'And if I g-get pulled in then... well, as screwed up a-as it is, as m... much as I hate everything ab... bout that world... it's still c-calling to me, isn't it? L... like you said- it made m-me a part of it. I'm d... drawn to it, as it's d-drawn to m... me. M-maybe they'll kill me this t... time. And if I r... really am g-gone then you have t... to tell my brothers whatever y-you learn from this. If the other w... world poses a threat t-to this one in any w... way then you t-tell them. T-tell Sealand, he'll l... listen.' Though whether the elder British Isles will listen to him is a different matter. 'Tell W-Wales, tell Ireland, t... tell Scotland. Tell anyone you c... can. They have t-to know.'

So close
I wish my life I'd never come near here

'Please, England-'

'My p-people will be okay if I d... die. I was c-cut off from them f-for five years, so I w... was as good as d-dead, and they carried on all the s-same. My b-brothers will k... keep them alive. Th-they'll be alright...'

'We won't do it, England. We won't help you do this.'

'I'm sure t-to fail if I do this a... alone. P-please. I just want it to b... be over. I have t-to end this.'

'Not like this.'

England freezes. That voice didn't come from the fae. It came from behind him. He doesn't turn, however, too conscious of all the magic building up inside him and dancing at the edge of his fingertips. If he loses concentration, he might expel it incorrectly. It might all release at once, and that could have destructive consequences.

'England? Are yeh listenin' to me? Come away from the water, alright? Just stop this.'

England tilts his head slightly to the side, taking his eyes off the water for a couple of seconds to catch sight of the figure in his peripheral vision. He knows the voice, of course, but it's incredibly unlikely to for it to actually be who he thinks it is. The figure's appearance at the edge of his sight confirms it for him, however.

'Ire... land?'

'That's right,' Ireland confirms. 'It's me. Lucky for yeh, because if it had been almost anyone else they'd have thought yeh were talking to yerself.'

England's eyes drift back to the pond. He mustn't break his concentration again. He can feel the energy building up inside him, threatening to break free.

'Listen to the fae, England,' Ireland continues. 'Listen to me. Yeh don't have to do this. We'll figure it all out and help yeh another way, alright? This is too dangerous.'

'N-no...' England wants to close his eyes and enable himself to get a better grip on reality, but he has to keep his gaze fixed on the water. 'You're n-not real...'

He imagines Ireland is probably frowning behind him. 'Why do yeh say that?'

'W-why else would you b... be here? You've just sh-shown up all of a sudden, th-thousands of miles away f... from where you should b-be right now. Besides, I'm s... seeing lots of things th-that aren't really there. M... my head is all... damaged and b-broken.'

He hears a crunch on the frozen earth as Ireland takes a step towards him. 'I'm here 'cause Wales called yesterday to tell me that Scotland had managed to fall out of a ruddy building. I was just getting ready to head to the airport when I got another call from Wales telling me that yeh'd had some kind of breakdown at the yank's house. And when I arrived in Washington this morning I got a text saying that yeh'd gone missing. Apparently Sealand suggested yeh might be in the park, so I said I'd check it out on the way to the hotel.'

So close

He's so close, too close to England...

'S-stay back,' England warns him.

Ireland sighs. 'Damn. I was angry yeh'd run off and left Wales like that. I was planning on yelling 'n everything. But look at yeh. Jesus, England. Yeh're really not okay, are yeh?'

'W-what an astute observation,' England mutters sourly. 'What g... gave it away?'

He can make out Ireland's reflection in the water beside his own, standing just behind him. 'That's more like it. That's more like the England I know. Yeh're not broken. Yeh haven't fallen to pieces, not like yeh think yeh have. The old yeh is still in there. Yeh can get through this.'

'Don't t... talk about things you d-don't know a damn th-thing about,' England snaps. 'You have n... no sodding idea what you're t-talking about...'

'Are yeh cold, England?' Ireland asks. He actually sounds concerned.

England uses his free hand to try shoving Ireland away from him. 'J-just stop it. Stop trying to d... distract me. And don't play the c... caring game. That's n-not what you do.'

'Don't talk about things yeh don't know a damn thing about,' Ireland echoes his younger brother. 'What would yeh know, England? Tell me, is there anyone in yer life that yeh've allowed yerself to actually believe cares for yeh? Are yeh really of the opinion that if yeh die right here and now everyone will just bloody move on like yeh don't even matter?'

'Y-you all did l... last time,' England retorts, feeling his eyes burning- though whether it's because of the magic building up inside him or if it is actually tears, he's not sure.

'Do yeh actually know what happened?' Ireland asks carefully. 'Did Scotland or Wales tell yeh, or did yeh not actually let them get a word in when yeh found out about the called off search?'

England says nothing. Even if he did want to stop the magic, it's too late now; the energy inside him is reaching a tipping point. The pond is still glowing, ready upon his command to open up a gateway. He'll have to expel the energy, or it's going to explode on its own.

'Just because yeh were pronounced dead,' Ireland finishes, 'that doesn't mean that they gave up on yeh. It doesn't mean anyone did. Yeh ask Wales about it when we get back. Yeh talk to him 'n Scotland so yeh hear it straight from them.'

'I'm n-not going back,' England whispers.

'England... come on. I heard what yeh were sayin' to the fae, alright? 'Bout yeh being in some other world. Which I have to admit, sounds ridiculous at first. But when I think it through, it makes a disturbing amount of sense. And there ain't no way I'm letting yeh perform whatever ritual yeh have in mind when there's a chance yeh could bloody die from it. Or get trapped in this other world yeh were in.'

'I c-can't stop n... now.' England's right hand is shaking. The magic is burning his fingers.

In the reflection, he can make out Ireland's hand reaching out for him. He flinches but Ireland doesn't stop. The older nation's hand moves on past him and comes to rest on his own outstretched arm, the one brimming with energy. Ireland's other hand comes to rest on England's left shoulder. The touch sends shivers coursing through England.

'I'll help yeh stop it, then,' Ireland says. His voice is more gentle than England has ever heard it before.

Ireland's magic is rather small and rusty, being that it is much weaker than England's and it hasn't been used in a while. England can still feel his brother's magic flowing into him, however, slowly and steadily helping him diffuse the energy inside him, like a fire being doused with water. England grits his teeth and holds his breath. All this energy inside him, although slowly dying, is still dangerous. It feels explosive, and it's taking every bit of effort to keep it contained. Without this little bit of help from Ireland, he surely wouldn't be able to manage this. Around the pond, the fae are also weighing in where they can.

Why am I doing this? he thinks numbly. I built up all this energy for a reason. I'm supposed to be opening the gateway. I can't just let it all go now. I've come this far...

But it's almost over now. It's too late.

Through dark and light I fight to be
So close
Shadows and lies mask you from me

Despair crashes into him, quickly replacing the void that the magic eventually leaves in its wake. Despair and exhaustion. England is completely drained, physically and mentally, The energy may be gone, but the burning has not left, residing in his pained chest and the tears in his eyes. He stumbles a little then sinks to the ground. Ireland half-catches, slowly lowering his little brother down to his knees, keeping his grip on England.

England lets out a sob. 'I c-could've ended it h... here. It c-c-could all b-be over. If y... you'd j-j-just let m-me-'

'Not a chance,' Ireland says gruffly. 'I can't let yeh die; Wales would kill me. Plus, once was enough for me, believe it or not.'

England twists his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's expression. 'I d-don't know w... what I'm s-supposed t-t-to do,' he chokes. 'I d-d-don't know how I'm s... supposed to c-cope. The... the things th-they d-d-did to m... me... the things they p-probably did, the things I d... don't even r-remember yet...'

'Yeh don't know what to do,' Ireland says quietly. 'And neither do I. The others, all as individuals, probably won't have a ruddy clue, either. But together we might be able to figure it out. That's what help's supposed to be, isn't it? No use in doing it alone, England. So far that hasn't worked out for yeh. I know it's hard, but try and put a little trust in us, okay?'

Ireland lifts one hand and presses it against the back of England's head and wraps the other arm around England's waist, pulling him into an embrace. England is so shocked (because this might be the second or third time in his entire life that this has happened) and so upset that all of a sudden being in someone's arms doesn't feel so terrible. The arms holding him in place aren't prison bars. They're not constricting. They're not harmful.

They're safe.

England rests his head against his brother's chest and closes his eyes.


Would you call that a nice ending? Nicer than some of the others, I would imagine XD

It was funny because I had a review a few days ago begging me to update and I was all, 'Buddy, that is literally what I am doing right now. I have just taken a tiny break from writing the next chapter to read a review asking for said chapter.' XD

So, I think it's about high time some form of recovery is in store for England. Sorry if they seem OOC or anything. England's completely broken down so I guess I can kind of justify him being a nervous wreck. And sympathetic Ireland? We don't exactly have much canonical knowledge of Ireland to go by so I guess this means I can kind shape his character how I want to some extent.

The G8 plus Wales and Sealand should be in the next chapter so you won't be missing them for too long.

I shall hopefully see you all on the 5th of November.

Remember to review, and toodles!