As promised, an update on the one year anniversary of the story's publication. Happy 5th of November to those who celebrate! And, I guess happy birthday to Ash Song!

Ah, one year old. They grow up so fast. XD

So, what's happened while I've been gone? One would argue I have now legally become an adult (plz no), the hellatus for many shows is over and, most importantly, Halloween. How I would have loved to have updated on Halloween. But I never would have been able to finish up another chapter in time for today if I had.

Unlike this time last year, I am in my home country, right here in the UK itself, but I won't be going to a bonfire tonight. Might watch V For Vendetta. Or Sherlock S03 E01. Anything that I love that is even a little related to the date. XD

Anywho. Sealand's time to shine.

I've shown flashbacks from England, America and Scotland's points of view so far. It's high time Sealand takes the spotlight. (Tbh I'm probably gonna show several characters' POVs at some point- definitely thinking along the lines of France and Canada...) Sealand and England get this chapter. I'm focusing on their relationship here.

This chapter is a little longer than the others. It's a special update after all.

(Apologies for the hyphens and ellipses again. Update: England's still stuttering.)

So, uh... allons-y!


Sixteen

Bridges Crossed

The pitter-patter of light hail against Sealand's window is what wakes him, not just the excitement.

Sometimes you can wake up and feel bright and alert already, ready to leap straight out of bed instead of lying there, half asleep and unwilling to get up. This is one of those occasions. Filled with childish exhilaration, Sealand throws the covers off and glances eagerly at his bedroom window.

Well, it's sort of his bedroom. A while ago it was simply the spare room, but since Sealand spends so much time here, it has basically become his. It's filled with his toys from when he was a little bit smaller and even a big poster of a Dalek. Not that Sealand would ever dream of letting jerk England find out that he likes Doctor Who.

The clock on the bedside table says that it's about half six in the morning, which Sealand figures won't be declared by Finland as 'too early'. Anything before six is 'too early'. He should be alright to go down now and unwrap the presents.

The hail is the only sound to be heard. The house is completely still. Sweden and Finland must still be asleep. Denmark, Norway and Iceland aren't due to come round until after ten, anyway, so there's still plenty of time to get all of the presents out the way.

The Christmas tree is bright and colourful, covered with fairy lights, baubles and other festive decorations. Sealand is quite proud of his work- after all, he helped Finland decorate it a couple of weeks beforehand. Underneath the tree are an abundance of presents, a large portion of them for Sealand himself.

A grin spreads across the young micronation's face. Oh yes. This is going to be very, very fun.


Sealand isn't in much trouble for opening the presents early. It's Christmas and he is an excitable child- no one is going to condemn him for that.

'You should open them in front of everybody,' Finland chastises, fussing over him like a mother hen. He isn't angry in the slightest, and they both know it.

'Norway got me a book about fairytales.'

'It's nice, isn't it?'

Sealand doesn't want to point out that he, as a mature and aspiring nation who will one day become the greatest country in the world, is a little too old for fairytales, so he nods and goes 'Mm hmm.'

The Nordics have all gathered in the living room to exchange presents and chat, which will probably turn into a drinking contest that only Denmark will actually want to participate in. Which will also eventually lead to either Norway or Sweden trying to drag or throw a seriously drunk Dane out of the house once he's passed out, to which Sealand will giggle at quite a lot. At least, that's what happened last Christmas, and the micronation is quite keen to see it happen away.

He himself is lying on his stomach on the living room carpet, colouring away in his new sketchpad. He's determined as a new year's resolution next week to become better than Wy at art over 2011, and now seems like a good time to start practicing.

From this angle he can easily spot the underneath of the Christmas tree just a few feet away. Aside from a couple of piles of excess wrapping paper that he tore off the presents earlier on, there's nothing else there. All the presents have been unwrapped now. There aren't anymore.

Sealand's eyebrows scrunch together in a very small frown.

He's not being greedy. Definitely not. He's just being observant. Something's a bit off.

'Are there any more?' he asks a little hopefully.

'Any more what?' Iceland asks.

'Presents.'

Denmark chuckles. 'I wish.'

Finland smiles. 'Surely you've had enough, Sea? You've had some great presents this year.'

'I know,' Sealand says quickly. He really doesn't want to sound spoilt. Acting spoilt is something little kids do, and he is not a little kid. 'I like my presents. They're great.'

The Nordics seem satisfied with this response and they easily slide back into the conversation they were having beforehand. Sealand resumes his drawing, happily sketching away as he nibbles down on a candy cane that he snatched off the Christmas tree when no one was looking. It's tasty but it wouldn't have been been his his first choice to snack on.

Something's missing.

It's a shame, Sealand concludes as it dawns on him. Not a major inconvenience but it's always been a bit of a Christmas tradition for him. Someone, whoever it always is, has forgotten to get him a box of chocolates this year.


Later on in the evening, Sealand is in his room, trying out the new telescope that Iceland got him and Sweden helped set up. It's a bit too cloudy to see anything properly so after about ten minutes he decides that tonight probably won't really be good enough for it.

Feeling a little hungry and wondering if there might be any Christmas cake left, Sealand leaves his bedroom and heads for the stairs. As he's approaching the steps, however, he hears his name being mentioned from the kitchen downstairs. The micronation pauses and decides to stay exactly where he is and eavesdrop. Like a spy or a secret agent. Sealand grins. That sounds cool.

'… does Sealand know yet?' Norway is asking. From what Sealand can tell, it's only him and Finland in the kitchen.

'I don't think so. They don't tend to have much contact, despite living so close to each other. But there are plenty of countries that haven't found out yet.'

'Well it's been a month and a half. People really should be knowing about it by now.'

'That long? Oh, that's not good, is it? How terrible...' Finland's voice sounds rather disheartened.

'It's not too much cause for concern. Yet. Nations have gone missing before, during wars or economic collapses. We've all had moments of seclusion when bad things happen to us.'

'But... his country's not in any immediate crisis. And his brothers are fine, and they're connected via the union, aren't they? Surely if it was a national problem then Scotland and Wales would be affected by it too?'

Sealand leans on the bannister, craning his head a little to listen. Their voices are getting a bit quieter now as the conversation grows increasingly sombre.

And they must be talking about jerk England.

'He's not just hiding,' Norway murmurs. 'They can't sense him. Not anywhere across the UK.'

'Maybe he just went on holiday. A long holiday.'

'That's not like him. He's not really one for that sort of thing, and if he really had done then he definitely would have told someone. He's not irresponsible.'

'He'll show up eventually,' Finland says optimistically. 'I expect this will all blow over soon enough. I'm sure he's fine.'

'Yeah, lighten up, guys! It's Christmas!' comes Denmark's drunken laugh from the living room. Sealand hears Norway sigh in exasperation.


It's quite late now and the others are getting ready to head home. Sealand (who really should be in bed by now) is once again creeping down the stairs, though this time he does have the intention of being spotted.

'Hey, Norway?' he calls out as he spots the Norwegian pulling his coat off the rack by the front door.

Norway peers up at the micronation as Sealand comes down the stairs. 'Shouldn't you be asleep by now?'

Sealand pouts. 'Nope! I'm too old to be going to bed so early.'

Norway raises his eyebrows, clearly amused. 'I'm sure.'

'So, um... what was that about jerk England?'

Norway looks surprised. 'You heard that?'

Sealand nods, looking a bit sheepish. 'Has he gone missing?'

'He... well, yes.' Norway seems rather uncomfortable discussing it with the micronation. 'But your older brothers are looking for him. He'll show up.'

Sealand feels a little peculiar. Kind of nervous in a way, and certainly curious. Not enough to be worried (after all, jerk England is not worth the concern), but intrigued in a slightly anxious way.

'But a few of his friends, myself included, are a little worried. That's all,' Norway finishes.

Before he knows what's happening, Sealand is giggling. He's not even sure why. It's not actually as funny as it would normally be. But he laughs anyway. He can't help it.

'Since when does the jerk have friends?' he chuckles.

'Sealand, that's not very nice,' Finland admonishes, stepping into the hallway. 'He's your brother. And you know Norway is friends with him.'

A part of Sealand wants to be able to stop laughing, but he can't.

England. Friends.

That's hilarious.

Sealand heads off to sleep soon after, for real this time. As he climbs into bed, he wonders why he laughed. As funny as it is usually, it probably isn't now. England is missing.

Serves the jerk right. Maybe they'll get Scotland or Wales to replace him in world meetings, and when he comes back they won't let him in anymore. See how he likes being kept out! Sealand thinks, but the element of vindictive pleasure he'd usually have at these thoughts is absent. Honestly, he doesn't feel happy about it like he would have thought he'd be.

He's not worried about the jerk. Anyway, England's supposed to be all experienced and everything. He used to be the most fearsome pirate to sail the seas, right? (Sealand still doesn't quite believe it, but Denmark swears it's true and the others never argue with him about it.) How can the former British Empire have gotten lost? That's probably what's so funny about it. It's ridiculous.

Once sleep takes a hold of him, something familiar returns to Sealand. Some dreams can be remembered for years. Others are gone within seconds of consciousness. Sometimes, however, remnants of them come back in other dreams. Similar dreams. Or in this instance, the exact same dream, on repeat every night, forgotten by morning and remembered only when he sleeps.

Sealand recalls it now. It's dark. There's nothing to be seen but a pitch black void. It's the sound that matters. From when these dreams started occurring, back in November, there has been hardly any noise at all. Just a little muffled whisper here and there, barely audible. That's what it's like every night. The dreams aren't disturbing or anything. Sealand doesn't understand them, but he's not concerned or anything. He won't even remember any of it in the morning.

But this time round, things have changed.

The darkness is still here, but the noise has grown louder, almost coherent now. It's definitely a voice.

'… H...'

Sealand is perplexed. The sound echoes, but not like it would do as if it were bouncing off the walls of a room. It's not coming from an exterior source; the voice is quite clearly inside his own head. But it's not his own voice.

'… Hel...'

Is the voice trying to greet him? '… Hello?' Sealand tries hesitantly.

'… Hel...'

'Hello? Who are you? Hello?'

'… Help...'

Sealand feels cold. This isn't right. Why does he keep having these dreams? Why does he always forget them? Why do they and all memory of them only come back to him when he is asleep? Are they going to get clearer now? And who is this voice, calling out for help?

'… Help... please...'

'Who are you? Why do you need help?' Sealand calls out, but already he can feel a shift in the dream. The presence of the voice seems to have dissipated and the darkness is lightening, already forming into a random, normal dream. His words are greeted with silence. Whoever it was, they are gone now.

Perhaps none of it matters. He'll probably forget the dream by morning, like he has done with all its predecessors.

He is wrong.


'We should be out looking for him,' Wales says. 'This meeting is unnecessary.'

'It's easier if we're all face to face,' Germany replies. 'This way we can decide what is to be done instead of us all wasting our time constantly phoning or texting each other to determine who searches where.'

A small, secluded lounge in the hotel the British Isles are all sharing, actually situated on the very same floor and only a few doors down from Scotland and England's room, has been reserved this morning for all the nations gathered here. Each one is ready to be distributed a location to search for England. Sealand watches the nations frantically discussing what is to be done with a certain degree of fascination. In all this pandemonium, Wales seems to have forgotten that he would generally prefer to keep Sealand out of this. But Wales is panicking at has quite a lot on his mind, so the micronation can understand why he hasn't been removed from the room.

Is this what world meetings are actually like? Sealand has snuck into plenty of them in the past and some of those occasions have even lasted quite a long time, but he generally isn't subjected to much of it. What little he has seen of them has been filled with chaos, disorder and nations yelling at each other, so he reaches the conclusion that this is probably the norm. And they call him a child! He would find it hilarious, under normal circumstances.

But England is missing again, and for some reason this isn't as funny as it could be. Just like how it was never funny to begin with. Certainly less so than before, because back then Sealand thought that England's disappearance wouldn't last long, and it wasn't all too concerning, given their strained relationship and Sealand's then naïve belief that nothing was truly wrong.

But now...

This time, things definitely are different. Those five years opened Sealand's eyes quite a bit, especially when he started to realise that this wasn't just some temporary thing and that something was very, very wrong. The dreams began to illuminate how serious it was, and now as he sits here, listening to all these older countries arguing and knowing that England is missing again, he's starting to dread the thought of those dreams returning.

Yesterday, when he saw England again, he could tell things had changed. The older nation didn't act all haughty and irritated as he always used to do, but was instead restless, anxious and almost a little shaky. It makes sense, of course. Sealand knows that bad things happened to England. Very bad things. He knows because of the things he heard in those terrible dreams. The things he sometimes wishes to forget, just like England seems to have done.

Sealand squirms impatiently in his seat. These older nations are all idiots, he's sure of it now. He's already told them that England is probably in the park. That's where Sealand would go, anyway. Over the last five years he has often found comfort in the faes' words, as they are some of the few who actually listen to him.

'Jerks,' he says with a pout, but no one is listening to him.

'We shouldn't rule out the 'ospital, 'e could be there-' France is saying.

'He's really not on good terms with Scotland right now, I seriously doubt it.'

'When 'as 'e ever been on good terms with Scotland? Perhaps 'e has decided to 'ide exactly where we would least expect 'im to be.'

Sealand glances over at America, who is beside him. The bigger nation's eyes are closed and he's wearing an unfamiliar frown. He seems deep in concentration.

Sealand grows curious. 'What are you doing?'

Without opening his eyes, America replies, 'If we focus really hard, we can tell if another country is on our land, and figure out roughly where they might be. That's how everyone searched for him the first time round.'

'Oh. So, is he in the park then?'

America smirks. 'You're quite sure you're right, little dude.'

Sealand rolls his eyes. 'That's because I am right. Not that these jerks have realised this yet.'

America looks amused. 'Just ignore them, man. I hope you're right.'

'Well? Am I?'

America grins. 'You worried about Iggy?'

'No! Of course not!' Sealand protests immediately, scowling. 'I just want to prove to everyone that I'm right. Which I am. Probably. Anyway, you're the one who's worried.'

America laughs and opens his mouth to probably give a similar answer to the one Sealand provided, only to hesitate and seemingly change his mind. 'Yeah, I guess I am,' he says quietly.

Sealand stares at him. So does Canada, who is sitting on America's other side and is probably the only other nation not engaged in the argument.

'You're admitting it for all to hear now,' Canada says, smiling widely with a strange shine in his eyes. He seems rather delighted that his brother isn't laughing the accusation away like he would do normally. Despite years of denying England's death, America was never one to openly express just how scared he was.

Although his eyes are still closed, Sealand can see America roll them under his eyelids. 'Hardly anyone's listening, bro. Besides, Iggy is not okay right now. That's pretty frickin' obvious. He... you know... he really needs help. So, as the hero, I'm totally gonna find him!'

'With my help,' Sealand puts in, crossing his arms. 'I'm the one who told you where he probably is.'

'Right, yeah. The hero and his trusty sidekick!'

'I'm not your sidekick!'

Canada sighs, but it is clear he is amused by the pair. The smile fades, however, as he focuses back on the group discussion, his mind probably once again occupied with his concern for England.

'He could have gone back to investigate the broken mirror-'

'No, he said he'd detected all that he could from it yesterday and there was no magical residue, so why would he?'

'And what if he was lying about that?' Russia says a little too casually. 'He seemed a little shifty when he came back into the room. Quite on edge, da?'

'He's seems on edge all the time now, Russia, that really isn't saying much,' Germany mutters.

'Amérique and Canada both went in to check on Angleterre,' France puts in. 'Do either of you think 'e may have been 'iding something?'

'Oh, u-um,' Canada says quickly, clearly surprised that he has suddenly been put in the spotlight. 'Well, uh, like Germany said, it's kind of hard to tell, because England seems to always be on edge.'

'England-san must have had a very good reason to run away in the middle of the night,' Japan says.

'He was scared,' Wales says quietly.

'What? Why? Canada and I were both there,' France says, looking thoroughly confused.

'I don't know the reasons why, but I'm sure his fear drove him out. And he must have been pretty damn terrified to run like that.'

'Do you think another entity showed up?'

'He wouldn't have left you two there if one had. Whether there was an actual threat or not, England's not thinking straight right now. I think he might be delusional. He's definitely got quite severe PTSD, and I'm not surprised, considering.'

Sealand still has no idea what PTSD is, but it's clearly quite an important detail. The other nations are all paying their full attention.

'Considering what?' Germany asks.

When Wales doesn't answer, Japan presses on further. 'What aren't you telling us, Wales-san?'

Wales stares straight ahead, a rather dull look in his eyes. 'It's not for me to say. Scotland and I have already betrayed England's trust enough already. I'm done with all that. If and when England's ready to discuss it, then I'll talk.'

There are a few moments of silence, then Italy whispers, 'What if England's left the country?'

'He hasn't,' America says finally, opening his eyes. 'He's still here, I can tell. He's close. Really close.'

'How close?' Italy says eagerly. 'Where exactly? Can you tell? We should go out and find him now-'

'Th-that won't be n... necessary.'

Sealand turns in shock, as do all of the other nations. Standing in the doorway is England, looking more ragged and exhausted than ever before, yet still a wild glint in his eyes. Next to him is Ireland, who smirks at the room's inhabitants.

'This close,' America says. He looks relieved.

'So, uh... turns out Sealand was right. He was in the park. Good job, kid... Yeh should see all yer faces, honestly,' Ireland jokes, though his words fall all a rather heavy silence.

Wales gets to his feet, his eyes fixed on England, and Sealand is instantly reminded of a cobra he once saw in a documentary, rising up and poised to strike. All of a sudden, the middle brother of the British Isles doesn't seem so mellow and chilled-out anymore.

'Where- the hell- have you been?' he says very, very quietly, and Sealand feels the strange urge to shiver.

Ireland laughs nervously. 'Okay, so maybe don't go completely psycho, Wales. We should all probably calm d-'

'I,' Wales spits, 'was worried sick about you.'

England doesn't meet his eyes. He says nothing.

Wales takes a step towards him. 'We were all worried sick about you. You- you don't get to do that. You don't get to disappear for five years, come back- and carry on leaving all the time. You don't get to just run off like that. Not in this state, not ever.'

And, strangely enough, not at any point does Sealand find himself disagreeing with Wales.

England slowly looks up. He is shaking, but probably not from Wales's words (though they are certainly enough to send chills through everyone). He is quite pale and looks very cold.

Wales reaches him and the two stand in silence for a second. Wales lifts his arms up ever so slightly, barely noticeable, and for a second Sealand wonders if he's going to fight England. But no, this is Wales. He may be angry, but he's not that angry.

But then England takes a deep breath, steps forward and Wales fiercely wraps his arms around him. And then it becomes clear that Wales was asking for a hug, still remembering to ask for permission despite being so incredibly upset. And England is allowing it, which must really be something because apparently he hasn't been all too fond of hugs lately.

'Don't you ever do that again,' Wales growls, but Sealand can see the smile on his face now.

''M s... sorry,' England whispers, his voice barely audible.


'I know you're awake, jerk. I saw you jump. Wales says you freak out when you wake up.'

England sighs. So much for discreet. He woke up a few seconds ago, very much aware that the other nations might be in the room with him, and he immediately resolved to stay in control. Don't freak out in front of them. Don't panic. It's supposed to be alright now. You promised Ireland you'd try and keep it together. They're going to help you, and they're going to listen. That's what Ireland promised you in return.

But as he sits up and looks around his room, the only person he can actually spot is Sealand, who is sitting on Scotland's bed, fiddling with the TV remote and he changes channels.

'There's just boring stuff on,' Sealand mutters. 'American news. No movies or anything.'

'W... where are the others?' England asks.

Sealand skips to the next channel, which turns out to be some reality TV show. It doesn't seem to amuse him in the slightest. 'They stayed in the lounge after you fell asleep to talk about what happens next.'

'You didn't s-stay with th... them?'

'Nope. I've been given an important job.'

'And w... what's that?'

Sealand turns to him and grins. 'Making sure you don't do something stupid. I'm supposed to run and get them if you do anything. Or yell really, really loudly.' He seems quite proud of his special task.

England rolls his eyes. 'And what exactly d-do they think I'm g... going to do? I already p-promised I wouldn't r... run again.'

He's surprised that Ireland and the others are being so... reckless. True, none of them know the full extent of England's hallucinations, but exactly how much did Ireland hear in the park? Was he there when England was telling the fae about how dangerous he believes himself to be? Probably not, or they would never have left him alone with Sealand.

I'm a danger to them. I can't be trusted. What if I attack someone? What if I see something the wrong way and I panic and try to protect myself and I end up hurting someone? That's what he had said to the fae. Probably before Ireland arrived. The other countries don't know how bad it is inside England's head. They don't know how terrible a decision this was.

'M... maybe you should g-go back to th-them,' England says uncertainly, trying to see things from the other nations' perspectives. None of them have actually seen him displaying any violent behaviour recently (other than occasionally freaking out in response to physical contact, though he handled both Wales and Ireland's hugs). Knowing how much of a worry freak Wales is, however, England guesses this isn't as irresponsible as it looks. The lounge is only a few doors away. They're within hearing distance, if any noise in particular is quite loud.

As he glances at the door, he sees that it has been propped open ever so slightly. Easy and quick to open in an emergency, if Sealand has to quickly run and get them. They've probably instructed Sealand to leave as quickly as possible and come to them immediately if anything happens. Perhaps they haven't made too stupid a decision after all.

Still...

England doesn't trust himself. Not even a little bit. He can't risk hurting anyone. 'It must b-be boring, s... sitting in here. You sh-should go.'

'No way,' Sealand says. 'I've got a very important job to do. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm not falling for it.'

Maybe Sealand thinks this is some way to prove to the other nations that he is responsible. Perhaps he believes it will help him get recognised as a country. But him being here could be bad. Very bad.

England closes his eyes. He's alright at the moment. His sleep was... peaceful. That's strange. But he was completely exhausted after the events at the pond, so after revealing himself to the other nations and being guided to his room he had fallen asleep pretty quickly. He didn't panic too badly when he woke up. The fact that the other nations aren't within his sight is helping, he guesses. He never does react too well around the others, so perhaps this isn't too bad. He's not hallucinating anything, as far as he can tell. The only person he can see is Sealand, and...

And so far he hasn't felt the need to panic around Sealand. Not at all. England opens his eyes and looks closely at his younger brother. And it finally dawns on England: Sealand is the first and only person who hasn't made England feel uneasy about being in the presence of. Each and every other nation has inadvertently caused discomfort. But not Sealand. Is it because he's a child? Logically, he hasn't got much of a chance of causing England harm. Maybe even England's paranoid mind knows that.

Sealand notices England watching him. 'I don't care what you want, jerk. I'm not doing what you say.'

'You t-told them I was p... probably in the park, didn't you?' England says.

Sealand crosses his arms. 'Yeah? So what? Serves you right, for running away.'

England feels an uneasy squirm in his stomach. 'D... did it upset you?'

Sealand laughs unkindly. 'Of course not, you massive jerk! I told on you because I wanted to foil your plan, of course! I beat you!' He seems rather pleased at the thought.

England looks away with a very small smile. 'Well, th... thank you.'

'What?'

'Thank you for helping. I p-probably would have done something v... very stupid if Ireland hadn't found me.'

Sealand turns his head a little so England won't see his face, but the older country still catches a glimpse of a pink blush on the child's cheeks. 'I wasn't trying to help you! I was doing it for me!' he protests loudly.

Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe England really can keep a level head, after all. He's feeling a lot more at ease than he has done at any other point over the last few days. Maybe Ireland was right. Maybe he really can get better. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

'I spy with my little eye, something beginning with G.'

England snaps back to attention. 'What?'

Sealand turns the TV off, pouting. 'It's really boring. So we should play a game. G.'

England glances around the room but he can't spot any likely candidates. 'I d... don't know. It can't b-be Germany, he's not here.'

'You give up?'

'I suppose.'

'Genius. As in me. I'm the genius. Because I figured out the mystery of the Christmas chocolates. Someone always used to send me a box of chocolates for Christmas, but they stopped coming in 2010. Sounds a little suspicious, don't you think?' Sealand raises his eyebrows and puts on a very serious face as he lifts one hand to cup his chin thoughtfully, clearly playing the part of a detective.

'Is that s... so?' England replies, feeling a tiny bit of amusement spark within him.

'And another clue: they were always Cadbury's chocolates. Which come from your country. Funny, that.'

'Indeed. C-curious.'

Sealand watches him for a few more seconds before jumping back into the game. 'So! Seeing as you didn't get it, that means it's my go again! I spy with my little eye, something beginning with J!'

'Jerk,' England guesses immediately.

'Ha! So you admit you're a jerk!'

'That's not what I was... never mind. I spy with my little eye...' He quickly scans the room, looking for an object of interest. And all of a sudden, with a jolt in his stomach and a catch in his throat, he is reminded of something he hasn't done yet, something he always does when he wakes up. His moment of peace is over. Of course it is. It never would have lasted. The rest of his surroundings, his current situation, it is all forgotten in an instant. England leaps to his feet.

'Knife,' he says.

'No, stupid, you're supposed to say the letter, not give the answer away,' Sealand chides him, rolling his eyes.

But England's mind is racing. He should be searching for his knife. He needs it (no he doesn't, for God's sake, just calm down, don't do this now, it's okay, you're okay, just relax), he always needs it.

They're all here. The other nations are too close, they're all too close, he's not safe-

Wait.

Germany has it. That's what France and Canada told him. What if he has it on him right now? The knife could be here. I could get it back right now-

'It's a pretty knife, isn't it?' says America's voice in his head.

No. Not America. Other America.

'The hilt suits you,' the red-eyed America says, his fingers running down the handsome green wood. 'Matches your eyes. Maybe it was meant for you, after all.' He gives a very light laugh, then grabs the hilt tightly in his hand and brings it down, straight into England's chest-

England bites down so hard on his bottom lip in an effort to keep from screaming that for a second he's certain it must have fallen off. If anything, that just enhances his instinct to cry out. His hands fly up to his mouth instantly and he can already taste the blood on his tongue.

'What... what's going on?' Sealand says hesitantly, the smile long-gone from his face.

England takes a few deep breaths. No. He can't do this now. He will not do this now. He will ignore the fact that his vision is flashing and blurry and chest feels like it's about to explode with nerves and he's going to be sick and the knife is splitting open his skin and digging into his flesh-

'Do... do I go and g-get someone?' Sealand stutters, his blue eyes wide. He looks terrified and he sends frequent glances towards the door.

No, no no no no no, please no. Not them. Too dangerous. Too frightening. Oh God. Oh God. Stop this. Please just stop this. His vision keeps flashing. One second he is standing here in this room, facing Sealand, the next he is strapped to a table as the red-eyed America bends over him, slowly pushing down the knife and twisting-

England chokes. This isn't fair. None of this is fair. It's supposed to finally be getting better now- Ireland promised that they would all try as hard as they could to help England, and England is trying as hard as he can to cope. But his own head is not making it easy.

Through the flashing imagery, he catches sight of two frightened blue eyes fixed on him, growing smaller as they move further away. Sealand is backing away towards the door, and England suddenly amends his previous thoughts.

No. It isn't fair. It isn't fair on Sealand. So wrapped up in his own panic, England has barely acknowledged how scared the micronation must be. Selfish twat, England's brain says spitefully to himself, and he knows for certain that it is definitely his own voice, not his counterpart's or Other America's.

'It's okay,' he coughs, his voice sounding strangled. 'D... don't panic. It's f-fine.'

'Should I get the others?' Sealand repeats nervously.

NO! England's brain screams fearfully, and he winces. 'N... no.' But would Sealand be safer if he left the room? 'I m-mean... I've g-got it under c... control. B-but... this will p-pass in a m... minute; I just n-need to...' Run. '… sit d-down.'

He lowers himself slowly onto the bed, resting his head in his hands. Yes. This is good. He's handling it appropriately and responsibly. This is important.

But Sealand might not be safe, and that is far more important.

'C... could I perhaps have a l-little privacy?' England murmurs. 'L-like you said, it's b... boring in here. N-no need to b... bother the other n-nations or anything, j-just...'

Sealand scowls. 'How stupid do you think I am, jerk? You're freaking out right now, like Wales said you do. And when you do that, you always try to run. So someone's got to stay watching you. And that's my job. Plus, you're never that polite to me. You couldn't make it anymore obvious, really.' Despite still hovering anxiously near the door, Sealand manages to smirk, clearly proud of his deductions.

'I'm not g-going to r... run, I swear. I j-just need to c-clear my head. I'll only n... need a few minutes-'

He breaks off in shock as he hears a group of familiar voices. Sealand looks pretty surprised too, glancing quickly behind him at the slightly ajar door. The other nations have left the meeting room and are in the corridor outside.

England feels his whole body go cold, and hates himself for it. The sounds of their voices are like unexpected crashes close by, each one making him instinctively jump. He was ever so relieved that upon arriving at the hotel and reuniting with them, Wales had insisted he needed more rest and had taken him to his room straight away. He could never had stayed in that room with them, surrounded and eyes fixed directly on him.

They must be coming here...

England stands up again, unsure of what to do. He promised he wouldn't run. There's no way he'd be able to, anyway. Sealand and the other nations are all in his way. So, what? Just stand here and inevitably have another breakdown? There's only so long he can keep his shit together.

'… maybe I shouldn't. I mean, he's... he's probably not gonna be okay if I'm there,' comes America's voice, followed by a weak laugh. 'I could just, um, wait outside.'

England is certain each one of his hairs is on end. It's all so chilling: the sound of America's voice, completely identical to that of his counterpart in all but the tone it's being used in; the words themselves, painfully calm and light-hearted, clearly hurt. Enough to completely submerge England in shame.

He's ashamed of causing America what must be a great deal of anxiety and likely a large amount of pain too. And he's ashamed of the fact that even after realising exactly why he's scared to be around America and knowing that America, this America, is completely not at fault, he still can't control his fear. It's still there.

England doesn't even realise his legs have slowly given way until his knees touch the floor. He sinks downwards, wanting more than anything than to just disappear on the spot. Pathetic, his brain says again. Definitely his own voice.

Sealand stares at him. He's not smirking or glaring now. He just looks confused, and maybe even a little concerned, though England could just be imagining that part. 'What's wrong now?' He looks back at the door again, beyond which the voices are definitely growing louder. 'There aren't any bad things around. It's just your fr...' He falters.

'What?' England says hoarsely, almost pleading. He needs a distraction. Anything to keep him from thinking about the approaching countries. Focus on Sealand. Listen to what he has to say. Don't think about them.

Sealand has a peculiar look on his face. 'Huh. Never thought I'd admit you have any of those.'

'Any of w-what?' Time is running out. The other nations must be very close now. England is clinging onto the micronation's every word. They are the only things keeping him from losing his battle of instincts.

And then Sealand smiles, as if something is highly amusing. His eyes shine with entertainment.

'I spy with my little eye, something beginning with F.'

A game to keep England's mind occupied. He's happy to play. But the other countries must only be mere feet from the door and he's feeling so sick with dread...

'F... f...' Even if he could think of a word, he doubts he'd be able to say it. The quiver in his voice still hasn't left. 'F...'

Sealand sighs in false exasperation. 'Come on. It's easy. Seriously? You really are bad at this game, jerk. I'll give you a clue: it's right outside the door. Rather, they're right outside the door.'

England opens his mouth but no sound comes out. They're right outside the door. They're here. It's too late.

'Friends. The word is friends.'

England's heart thuds to a stop. At least, it feels like it. The world has gone rather quiet.

'Was that really so difficult?' Sealand's voice sounds surprisingly soft. His eyes lock with his brother's and his smile is probably the warmest one he has ever directed at England.

England himself can hardly breathe. Friends. Was that deliberate? Did Sealand, the naïve, innocent little kid somehow know to do that? Was it actually an attempt to put his mind at rest?

Friends. There's a knock on the door. Someone is asking if they can all come in. The sound isn't jabbing at England's nerves. It's just a voice, nothing more. If anything, it sounds gentle.

Friends. England thinks of how worried Wales was for him, how the G8 had wanted to discuss how to go about addressing his mental state, how Canada had said all those kind words to him yesterday, how Ireland had come and essentially rescued him this morning while promising that he and the others would help England, how America has been looking out for England all week despite the rather obvious barrier between the two, how he argued with the rest of the world when they all reached their conclusion about England, how he and Sealand were the only ones who believed differently, how Scotland and the others are probably trying to make up for it now...

England climbs to his feet as the door opens. He knows he can't trust his instincts just yet, and perhaps he won't be able to for a very long time; maybe even forever. But he knows that he should at least try. He's got a very good reason to, after all.

Friends.


Someone reviewed a while ago saying how poetic it would be if this story ended on its anniversary. I laughed for like five minutes. As far as I'm aware, this thing ain't even half way. *the angstfest of horror continues*

Once again, I'm trying to balance Sealand's childish side with a rarer, slightly astute version of him. Well, I say 'once again'- I'll probably be doing it quite a lot in this story. He didn't know exactly what was wrong with England in that last part but through those dreams he used to have he knows that very bad things have happened to England and he picked up on the current situation and handled it in a rather innocent manner. Tried to show he cared too. Without him actually even acknowledging it in his own POV. This kid's got a lot of denial.

Wanted to emphasise his change of opinion on England having friends too, as it's kind of what England needs right now: to know that he does have friends, and they they really do want to help him get better. I hope Sealand wasn't too OOC at the end there, cuz like I said, I wanted to show that he really does care.

Who knows when I see you guys next? Probably some time in December. XD

Remember to review! Peace out, bitches ;)