Hello everyone. 'Tis I, a massive Disappointment.

Okay, so we went past two months this time for the waiting period. Yikes. I hope the fact that this is a mega chapter and that the big talk with the other nations both compensate in some way. Seriously, this is about 2 and a half thousand words longer than my average chapters. Again, yikes.

I took so long trying to put this chapter together that I was convinced even Sherlock would come back, the Doctor Who s9 soundtrack would be released, and there would be a Stark reunion before this story was updated. One of those things actually happened.

This story is officially longer than Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Not quite sure why I know this. Imagine if I overtook Order of the Phoenix. Holy shit.

Fun story: I've written exactly 5565 words for two important flashback scenes, then sort of realised later on upon writing some present stuff... they wouldn't fit into this chapter. This chapter is beefy enough already. And I refused to put off the big explanation scene any longer. So I essentially wasted some time and inadvertently delayed this chapter because of it. Still, I've saved myself some time and energy somewhere down the line. I hope I can use them in the next chapter.

Warnings: a traumatised child and insecurities. England's got a lot of them. Angst is more of a fleck in the distance. Strange as it seems, I actually know how to send it away sometimes lmao.

(Speaking of strange stuff, I had a revelation a couple of months ago that this story has more than one or two things in common with Stranger Things. As in, someone gets taken to a super disturbing parallel world, someone else is sort of able to communicate with them, or at the very least hear them, and people have powers- be it magic or psychokinetic. Is2g I didn't copy Stranger Things. I published this story back in 2015, before the show came out. But it kind of explains why I love Stranger Things- I clearly have a taste for that sort of thing, or I wouldn't be so invested in writing this story XD)

Also, America and France are officially England's bodyguards now, I don't make the rules. Oh wait. I do. I'm writing this story. How about that lol.

Allons-y!


Twenty-One

Grim Truth

It's strange how quickly every value that seems important to Sealand can crumble to dust within just a few minutes. How he spent decades proclaiming himself a real country, only to fiercely deny it in a desperate attempt to seem unimportant and escape Other England's clutches. How his confident and headstrong nature caved in to be replaced by the meek and feeble disposition of a terrified child. How the boiling anger inside him towards his older brothers morphed very quickly into a desperate need to reach them, to throw himself into their arms and feel safe in their embrace.

He wonders if England felt the same when he was trapped in the Other World. Perhaps. Whatever he endured, it was far worse than simply looking at someone dangerous in a mirror. Then again, he probably didn't feel this way at all. England is an adult, a nation over a thousand years old, a former empire. He's stronger, smarter and braver than Sealand could ever pretend to be, even if he tried. Which he didn't. He didn't play at being strong, or smart, or brave. He wore the truth all over him: a scared, weak little child.

He's still wearing it now.

Ignoring the nurses, Sealand pelts into Scotland's room and throws himself at the nearest person, which happens to be Wales. Sealand closes his eyes and buries his face in his brother's shirt, his hands already clinging to Wales's back.

'Whoa- Sealand, what-?'

The child tries to speak, but his words come out as a string of nonsensical gibberish. He shivers and clings on tighter to his brother.

'What happened?' Wales says immediately, completely bewildered. 'I thought you weren't talking to me? What's wrong?'

'B-bathroom,' Sealand chokes. He feels like he's going to be sick. 'In th-the bathroom.'

'What happened, lad?' comes Scotland's voice from his bed.

'… ther Eng…'

'Speak up, Sea,' Ireland's voice says gently, and Sealand feels something touching his back, right between his shoulder blades. He wrenches himself away from Wales and spins around with a little cry, shaking badly.

Ireland pulls his hand away quickly, staring at Sealand in shock. When the child turns to look at his other brothers, he recognises the look on their faces: the one they have whenever England has a freak out and is scared to come near anyone.

'… ther England,' Sealand sobs, feeling tears squeezing their way out of both his eyes.

'England? He came here? He supposed to be in the psych ward-'

'No!' Sealand wails. 'The other one! The other England!'

Silence falls over the room for a few seconds. Sealand's gaze trails over to the table beside Scotland's bed. He can see a folded piece of paper next to a glass of water and knows that it must be the list. Ireland and Wales have either read it to Scotland already, or they're about to.

'In… in the mirror,' Sealand continues with a sniffle. 'Like how th-the other America showed up w… with Scotland. When he p-pushed you.'

Ireland is the first to collect himself. 'He's here? That bastard showed up again? What did he do to yeh? Are yeh alright?'

''M fine,' Sealand murmurs, but he certainly doesn't feel fine.

'Ireland!' Wales admonishes his brother's language instinctively, shooting a glance at Sealand. He lifts his arms slightly, clearly offering Sealand another hug, but the child doesn't take it.

'I think we have bigger things to worry about than that,' Ireland retorts. He clenches his fists, his eyes fixed on the door.

'No,' Wales says immediately, realising what Ireland is thinking.

'If he's here then this is as good a time as any,' Ireland growls. 'These psychopaths have done enough. They took England, and just look what they turned him into. One of them pushed Scotland out of a goddamn window and almost killed him. And now they've gone after Sealand. He's just a child, and they tried to-'

'I'm not hurt,' Sealand says in a quivering voice.

Scotland's expression is like ice. 'Ireland's right. If even one of those monsters is here, we should try to-'

'Do what?' Wales snaps. 'What exactly are you going to do, Scotland? Are you going to miraculously get out of bed? Are you going to fight?'

'I'll bloody do it,' Ireland says. 'If one of them is here, then we have to do something. We'll make him pay.'

Sealand shivers, thinking about another debt, the one that the nations in the other world feel they owe to England. 'We're waiting to repay him for all that he gave us,' Other England had said. Sealand is still too shaken to think about whatever that could possibly be. The only thing he is truly registering right now is that his older brothers have listened to him, and they actually believe him. Scotland clearly has already read the note. They all know about the nations in the other world, and they believe it. Sealand would feel relieved, if only he weren't still shaking and his heart wasn't still hammering violently in his chest.

'He's gone,' he whispers. 'He's not in the mirror anymore. I don't think he's coming back.'

He says this with a strange amount of certainty; indeed, something gives him the feeling that Other England is most certainly done- for now.

'He won't leave for good, though,' Sealand says faintly. 'I think he had a plan for this time, and it didn't work out. So he's gone away to think of something else. And probably to tell the others in the bad world what happened.'

His brothers are simply staring at him again. 'What did he say to yeh, exactly?' Ireland asks.

'He wanted to see England. He found me instead, by mistake. That's how his plan went wrong.'

Scotland curses under his breath. 'He mighta continued searching for England. When was the last time any of yeh checked up on how England was doing?'

'We called France when we were on the way to the hospital. We told him we'd be visiting England after you,' Wales says. 'You don't think something might be happening right now...?'

'It can't hurt to check,' Ireland points out.

Wales nods and pulls his phone out.

Sealand feels himself starting to get frustrated. He knows, deep down, that Other England isn't seeking England out anymore today. He seemed peculiarly satisfied with discovering Sealand instead, like it ended up acomplishing something for him. Besides, if Other England was going to persist in looking for his counterpart, he wouldn't have bothered giving Sealand a message to deliver to England.

'I already told you, the other England isn't coming back here right now,' Sealand says. 'He didn't get what he wanted, but I think he's happy with what he did get.'

'What do yeh mean by that?' Scotland demands.

'I dunno. He just seemed pleased.' Sealand wonders if he should mention Other England's fascination in him. He probably should. But if he does, his older brothers will only grow more enraged and probably won't listen to him or anyone else at all.

Scotland, Ireland and Wales shoot each other worried glances. They must think I'm a target now, just like England, Sealand realises. Maybe I am. I think the other England might want to find me again.

On the other end of Wales's call, someone answers, and Wales responds immediately. 'Hey, France. How is everything over there? Is England...? ... He's awake? Oh, good. Is he, um... is he okay? Has anything happened?'

'This whole secret, about the Otherworld,' Scotland says quitely. 'France isn't in on it at all, is he?'

'As far as I'm aware, he ain't got a clue,' Ireland replies in a lowered voice. 'Canada sorta knows a bit, 'cause of what he overheard the other day. America knows pretty much everything, except... I don't think either of them know it's the Otherworld we're dealing with, though. They do know it was a parallel demension.'

Sealand glances at his eldest brother at the mention of America's name, but Scotland doesn't flinch or grow angry. He must find the list's contents and Ireland and Wales's explanations plausible, which does cheer Sealand up just a little bit.

'What about any of the other countries?' Scotland asks. 'None of them know anything about this?'

'To my knowledge, no,' Ireland says.

Wales has his back to the others as he talks to France on the phone, clearly relieved. Nothing bad has happened over in the psych ward, just as Sealand predicted. The child squirms restlessly. 'I told you,' he says to Ireland. 'I told you it's fine. No one ever listens to me.'

'We are listening,' Ireland insists. 'We believe yeh, Sealand. We're calling just to be sure, because we're worried. We can't risk letting anything else happen to England. Yeh understand?'

Sealand nods numbly.

'Right. Okay. Thank you.' Wales ends the call and turns to face the others. 'France says everything's fine. England had one bad dream, but he handled it well. No panicking or anything. America is there and Italy has just arrived for a visit.'

Once again, Sealand looks at Scotland, but the elder nation apart from a little frown of discomfort, he says nothing.

'As long as he's safe,' the redhead mutters.

'I think yeh're missing the bigger picture here,' Ireland says. 'This is all getting too regular. Sure, things have quietened down over the last couple of days, but I would argue that's 'cause England's been outta action. Trouble's brewing again.'

Wales shoots him a glare. 'You had better not be blaming this on England.'

'No, of course not,' Ireland scoffs. 'What I'm saying is, these bastards in the Otherworld have some weird obsession with him. They're not done with him. But they don't seem to be that interested in him when he's out cold, do they? They like screwing with his head and sending bad shit after him, and they kinda need him to be awake to react to it all. Now that he's properly awake again, they'll carry on with their sick little game.'

As always, Wales seems concerned that Sealand is present to hear this; whether it's because of the swearing, or because he thinks Sealand might find what Ireland has to say frightening, the micronation isn't sure.

'Perhaps now's not the best time...' Wales begins.

'They're gonna start showing up more and more,' Sealand says, ignoring the middle brother. He's still feeling faint and shaky, but he can be a bit braver now- or at least act like it.

Ireland nods, and Sealand is glad that at least someone is treating him like more than just an oblivious child. 'They're not just targeting England- they've gone after Scotland and now Sealand, too, even if they weren't deliberately looking for the lad. Wales and I could easily be next. And do yeh think they're gonna draw the line at our family? That entity that attacked the G8 went after everyone there, didn't it? These monsters in the Otherworld could potentially target anyone connected to England, anyone near him.'

'Probably best if we don't mention that last part to England,' Scotland points out. 'He'll definitely see that as good cause to distance himself again.'

'Oh believe me, it's already occured to him,' Ireland says darkly. 'Yeh should have heard him in the park, telling the fae how he thought he might be a danger to everyone. What I'm trying to say is, we can't delay this any longer- we need to tell the rest of G8 everything we know, now. We don't know when the next bad thing might happen, or who it might happen to. Everyone needs to be prepared. And for that, everyone should know exactly what we're dealing with.'

Wales shifts uneasily. 'I agree, but how are we going to do this? Should we ask them all to come here? I mean, one of these nations in the Otherworld just showed up right here, for crying out loud. I know you're pretty certain this other version of England isn't interested in coming back today, Sea, but he might change his mind if a bunch of us gather here. What if they send another entity or-'

'Yeh could arrange a meetup outside the hospital, yeh know,' Scotland says. 'I know they won't let me out, but I don't mind not being there. As long as yeh're there, and yeh tell them everything-'

'We'll need England,' Wales says.

'Will we?'

'Yes. It's all very well, us telling everyone everything we know so far, but England's the one with the actual experience. He might not remember much yet, but it's clear that some pretty violent, traumatising memories have returned to him- enough to enlighten him on how bad these other nations really are. He's the only one who can truly tell us what we're up against.'

'I think the rest of us got the general gist of how bad these other nations are when they send a homicidal entity after the G8, pushed Scotland out of a building and caused England to completely break down and end up in a psych ward,' Ireland mutters. 'Plus, think of what they could have done to Sealand. That was such a close call.'

Sealand feels a little embarassed. Next to almost being killed by a malevolent spirit, falling seventy feet onto concrete and all those horrors he heard England screaming about in his dreams, everything that caused him to fall to pieces inside his head, the little incident in the bathroom doesn't seem all that significant or menacing. All of a sudden, he feels like a stupid little kid.

'England needs to help explain this to everyone,' Wales continues. 'He needs to decide exactly what he's comfortable telling everyone-'

'Look, I'm all for respecting England's boundaries,' Ireland interrupts. 'But this is to ensure everyone's safety, Wales. I'm sure England would approve of it. He's clearly ready to start sharing, or he wouldn't have offered us the list.'

'He might have more he wishes to say. More than just what's on the list. I think he should be present for this. And I think we should do it here, like we tried to do last time. They'll never let a large group of people have a meeting in the psych ward and they likely won't let England leave the hospital, but they might be convinced into letting him visit a family member in another ward. And that way, everyone, including Scotland and England, can be present for this.'

'What, let England be the centre of another big meetup? With a bunch of people in a room with him? His track record of staying calm around people hasn't been too good lately.'

'Shouldn't you just ask him what he wants?' Sealand asks quietly.

Wales breaks off from the argument and glances at Sealand. 'I... yes. I think that's fair. England would prefer that.'

'We should contact someone in the G8 and tell them we're potentially meeting up,' Ireland suggests. 'People need to be given notice. Germany, maybe. He's the one who organises everyone.'

Wales nods, his fingers already tapping away at a message on his phone. 'I'll tell France to ask England if it's okay to meet as soon as possible. There will probably be an issue getting England out the psych ward, if he says yes. I'll tell Germany if England approves of this, and we can sort out the details.'

Sealand's stomach twists in excitement. Not only is his family listening to him, but everyone's about to find out the truth. And this won't be like the other day, when they all thought they'd finally have everything explained to them, only for it to all go horribly wrong in that outburst. Maybe this time, things will be different. Maybe this time, it will work.

Sealand is so caught up in these thoughts that he only just catches Scotland's next words, being muttered under his breath to Wales.

'Make sure Germany brings England's knife.' At Wales's raised eyebrows, Scotland adds, 'Just in case.'


'Somehow,' France says dryly, 'I don't imagine anyone will be particularly pleased with this. We're all already on thin ice with the 'ospital staff.'

'Y-you'll want to w… watch out there,' England advises him. 'You're starting t-to sound c… concerned again. It d-doesn't suit you.'

'I see those five years did absolutely nothing for your petulance, Angleterre,' France remarks snidely. 'Must you remain so insolent?'

'I've b-been in a bed for over t… two days,' England replies. 'And I've had it w-with hospitals. Budge.'

He squeezes his way past America and France, reluctant to make physical contact, as that's really not been working out for him with anyone recently. The floor is cool and smooth between his feet, and very, very solid. England imagines it certainly won't be nice to fall on, so he opts to stay standing no matter how dizzy he feels. America gets to his feet too and his hands hover by his sides, seemingly ready to rise up and hold England in place, should he tumble. Aside from his ever present sense of discomfort, a part of England does find this strangely reassuring. And just a little touching.

On the other side of his bed is Italy, who arrived a few minutes beforehand to visit briefly. Unlike America, he successfully managed to sneak some snacks in undetected, and also brought a rather thoughtful bouquet of get well soon flowers. He squirms uneasily as England sways slightly. 'Ah, I think big brother France is right. The others said it was super duper important that you stay here until you're all better-'

'We'll be w… waiting a while for th-that,' England mutters under his breath, knowing that there's realistically no way he'll be healing substantially within the rest of the time they have left in the States. He'd have to sort his head out for that, and, well… well it just won't be happening. For a long time. Period. He's accepted that much.

'But the nurses might get mad,' Italy adds, looking nervous. 'People might start shouting and I really hate shouting. And so do you now, right?'

When England glances at him questioningly, Italy continues, 'Well, the other day when we went to visit Scotland, you got all upset when everyone started yelling at once and then you and America ran-' He breaks off when France shakes his head deliberately. For their sake (something he would vehemently deny taking into consideration if he had any spare energy for it), England pretends not to notice.

'Your frères will be 'ere soon,' France tries again. England completely ignores him. 'They said on the phone that they're visiting Écosse first, and then they'll likely 'ead over 'ere. If it's just a bite to eat you want, you don't have to go to the café. We can bring you something.'

'You'd b-be so kind?' England says mockingly, not buying it.

France rolls his eyes. 'If it will get you to shut up, oui. Let me guess- you want tea? I can go and get tea.'

'No. I'll c-come. I can do th… that, right?'

'Probably not,' America pipes up. 'I'm pretty sure they want you to stay in this ward.'

'We have IDs,' Italy says enthusiastically, and then his face falls. 'Though I think I left mine in my hotel room. Or maybe Germany has it. He's always looking after all my important documents because I lose stuff very easily…'

France smiles. 'Angleterre doesn't 'ave an ID on 'im either.'

'No, of c-course not,' England says dryly. 'I'm a psych n… nutjob now.'

Instead of laughing, France remains oddly serious, though he does roll his eyes. 'Don't say that. I would argue you've been, as you so eloquently put it, a 'nutjob', for at least most of your life. 'Onestly, you can be quite mad at times. Your notions are definitely ridiculous.'

England narrows his eyes at him. 'How, exactly?'

Surprisingly, it's America who answers. 'You think you're here 'cause you're crazy. You're not crazy, and if you were, that wouldn't be why you're here. People come to places like this because they need help. That's why you're here.'

Moments of true seriousness are few and far between for America, and they never fail to shock England. He responds to it the way he always used to, with sardonic humour.

'Perhaps you b… both need to b-be admitted,' he says. 'You're acting v-very strange, the p-pair of y… you. I think y… you've both gone mad.'

This is almost confirming something he now fears- that they're being uncharacteristically nice to him, all because they've seen him cry less than an hour ago, following that memory he woke up from. He had dried his tears by the time Italy arrived, but France and America still saw them. This all ties in with how careful everyone has been acting towards him- all gentle and cautious. It makes him incredibly uncomfortable.

Italy, meanwhile, is completely oblivious to the mood. 'You don't have to go to the café! I brought snacks, remember?'

'I n… need the walk,' England says, just as France's phone begins to ring. Things need to go back to normal. If I'm going to recover, I can't rest forever.

France answers it quickly, likely concerned that a doctor or a nurse will enter the room and accuse him of disturbing the peace.

'Oh, bonjour,' he greets. 'Oui, it's all fine 'ere. 'E's awake now.' He looks a little surprised, presumably because of the frantic voice that England can only just hear on the other end. He can't make out what the voice is saying, but he recognises it as Wales.

''E's fine,' France continues, looking at England. 'Just one bad dream, but 'e 'andled it.'

England sends him a glare, but he supposes it isn't particularly an invasion of privacy. France even looks a little apologetic.

'That was strange,' France says as he ends the call. ''E only phoned about 'alf an 'our ago, on the way to the 'ospital.'

'He sounded a bit upset,' America points out.

'I think 'e 'ad reason to believe something was wrong over 'ere,' France says, thoroughly confused.

He's read the list, England thinks. Scotland and Ireland probably have as well by now. They'll want to talk to me as soon as possible about it.

Sure enough, around fifteen minutes have passed when America's phone buzzes with a text alert and he pulls it out his pocket. 'Well, dude, you're in luck,' America says. 'Germany says Wales wants there to be some big meet-up here at the hospital. Apparently Ireland and Wales are arranging it. I think we have to go over to Scotland's ward.'

'On the condition that you consent to it,' France adds, looking down at his own phone. Wales must have messaged him instead of calling this time. 'Your frères wish to know if you're comfortable with... 'the big talk', as they've put it. Presumably the one we all attempted the other day.'

England stares forward, his heart pumping a little faster than before. It can certainly be said that he's in a much better condition than he has been over the last two days, and perhaps he is also in a better place mentally than he was last time he tried telling the other nations the truth, even if he has since been exposed to particularly violent memories and is currently in a psych ward. He may be even more damaged than before, but he's grown a little more trusting of the other nations- at least, he's stopped believing that certain individuals are trying to kill him, which is certainly an improvement. He's grown more comfortable with being in their presence (not that he's had much choice), and their surprising levels of empathy have been both nice and disturbing, mostly because he still finds it difficult to conceive that they are concerned for him.

He'll see everyone's true colours if he goes through with this. He'll know who he can really trust once he puts all his cards on the table. So far, he knows he has America, Sealand and Ireland. It sounds as if Scotland and Wales are onboard too. Maybe with their support, his story will sound a little more believable to everyone else.

'T-tell them yes,' he says, his throat dry. 'I'm r... ready.'

France responds to Wales immediately with England's reply.

Another ten minutes pass, and it's all been arranged; the meeting shall be in the hospital, exactly where they intended to hold it last time, in Scotland's ward. England leans against the wall beside his bed and twists his fingers around each other nervously. He's very much aware that the same thing could happen again this time- that something will freak him out, that everyone will get upset, that America will be hurt in some way... except that last one is less likely to happen, because America is aware of what England truly meant. England gulps a little when the final text from Wales comes, confiming that it's all been arranged and everyone is heading over to the hospital. He decides to distract himself from the growing dread by focusing on his present issue.

'Moment of t… truth- will they let m-me out?' England asks dramatically, like it's some big mystery that's about to be solved. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots America smirking, and is at least a little glad that his overly sarcastic nature has returned properly and is amusing his former colony.

'Germany's saying the same thing,' Italy announces, peering at his own phone. 'He wants to know if there will be any trouble getting England out of this ward.'

'We'll soon find out,' France replies.


The staff are unhappy with the idea of England leaving the ward, even if he's remaining in the hospital. They're even more displeased when France requests that there be no supervision from any doctors or nurses during England's outing. They finally settle with him leaving the ward, as long as they have a chance to evaluate his current state to determine whether he's ready or not.

While Italy races off to see if the other members of the G8 have arrived at the hospital yet, America and France wait for England outside the room he's being assessed in. The doctor who is in there with him said that it shouldn't last much longer than fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty at the most.

'You want to get an assessment too?' America teases after a few minutes of silence. 'Iggy seems to think we're both crazy.'

'Of course 'e does,' France says. ''E doesn't really know 'ow to deal with concern.'

'Well, it's kinda weird, you know,' America points out. 'You, showing it. For England of all people.'

'I could say the same to you,' France responds. His words sound as if they should have a bite to them, but his tone is light.

'I'm much nicer to England than you,' America challenges him. 'Even if I just used to be crap at showing it.'

This is just one of the many England-related things America has dwelt on over the past five years. Now that England has returned, America has decided to be a little more open with his concern. Maybe he should have started with actually admitting they're friends to England's face. That was something he never got around to doing, and he's not sure England ever did read between the lines on that front. Showing he cares was the first step. Unfortunately, it seems to be weirding England out.

France watches him with a strange expression. 'You've grown up a bit, you know,' he says at last.

America tilts his head to the side. 'You think so?'

'You're not determined to hide it anymore.'

'Hide what?'

France gives a knowing smirk. 'That you care. You really missed 'im.'

'So did you,' America says bluntly.

'Oui. Who would 'ave thought it?' France gives a low chuckle. 'It turns out I do care. A lot, it would seem.'

'Oh my God…' A massive grin splits across America's face. 'Can you, like, say that again? And let me record it? 'Cause no one's gonna believe me otherwise.'

'Pft. Stupid American.'

Less than thirty seconds later, England emerges from the other room, looking weary but fairly triumphant, which confirms that he has been granted permission to leave.

'Two hours at the most,' the doctor calls out, appearing in the doorway with a less than pleased expression. 'And remember to sign in and out.'

England averts his gaze from America for a few seconds and seems rather hesitant with his approach, all traces of his small burst of confidence evaporating. It dawns on the younger nation that perhaps England is having another hallucination, and instead of internally priding himself on reading the atmosphere, America only feels dread and worry. England has only just been classed healthy enough to leave the ward, and it's awful to think that he may be just about to prove the doctors wrong.

Say something you would say. Be yourself.

'Dude,' America says immediately, 'you are not gonna believe what France said while you were in there.'

''Onestly, I 'ave no idea what 'e's talking about-'

'He totally admitted that missed you, Iggy, and that he cares! And I think he was serious, too. I wanted to record it for proof and stuff, but he wouldn't let me-'

'I take back what I said about you growing up,' France growls, but amusement flickers in his eyes. 'You are a child.'

England glances at America hesitantly, and then a nervous yet relieved smile appears on his face. 'Is th-that so?' he asks softly.

America feels like punching the air in victory.


As England and the other two approach the door to Scotland's room, they begin to overhear hushed voices from inside.

'... When he arrives, try not to ask too many questions about his health. Just one 'how are you' should do it. Any more than that and he'll get agitated.'

Wales sounds quite agitated himself, clearly trying to brief everyone on how he thinks they should behave when England walks in. The other nations must all be there, waiting for England, America and France to show up.

The three stand outside the door. The other nations haven't realised that they are in fact here already, and England debates on whether he should wait a little longer outside, or walk inside now and get it over with. The latter will certainly make it awkward for everyone, if they realise he can hear everything they're saying.

'What's wrong with showing our concern?' Japan asks. 'I mean, I know England-san finds these sorts of things uncomfortable, but perhaps he'll feel more content if he knows we're all supportive.'

'That might work on literally anyone else, but he's difficult,' Ireland pipes up. England scowls. 'He has trouble buying that sorta thing. He gets paranoid that people are lying whenever anyone's nice to him. He's already gonna be pretty self-conscious about the fact that he's... yeh know, in a psych ward.'

'Worst case scenario, he'll be wondering why no one's laughed at him yet,' Scotland adds.

'And no yelling, for God's sake,' Wales says. 'He was panicking last time, and we were all too busy shouting to notice. Even if America hadn't fled, England probably would have run off anyway.'

England doesn't know whether to be offended or mildly impressed that his brothers know exactly how his mind works. When he turns to look at the other two to see what they make of it, France gives a weak smile, shrugs, and quietly says, 'Well, they're not wrong.'

America, on the other hand, seems to grow a little apprehensive about entering the room when Scotland speaks. He bites his lip and winces uneasily.

'He kn-knows you're innocent now,' England whispers. 'I m... made sure of it.' Whether Scotland believes it is a different matter, but England isn't about to mention that part.

America tilts his head. 'How? You've haven't left your ward until now.'

'Sealand. And a l-list. Long story. Sh... shall we get this over with?' he adds, this time for France as well.

'Might as well,' France replies, pushing on the door.

The nations inside all go quiet when the three enter the room, and England immediately hates it. He wonders if they're feeling just as uncomfortable as him; after all, they're probably wondering if he heard what they were just discussing.

'Y-yes, I did.' England decides not to beat around the bush. If they're not going to try and diffuse the tension and make it more casual, then he will.

'Did what?' Wales asks.

'Hear what y-you were saying. J-just thought I'd c... clear it up.' England rolls his eyes and makes his way over to temporary bed he used beforehand so he can sit down.

Everyone looks overly uncomfortable at getting caught, and England admittedly feels a little smug; if the situation weren't so severe, and if they had been saying something negative about him instead of discussing how to make him feel more content, he definitely would have said something along the lines of serves you all right. As it happens, he's only really trying to break the ice. If they see he isn't too fazed, they should relax.

'Well... are yeh feeling better?' Scotland breaks the silence.

'I haven't had a b... breakdown in t-two whole days,' England says abruptly. He feels a little giddy. 'I'd say so.' He fixes everyone in the room with a harsh stare, daring anyone to look pitying. His brothers are right: he won't tolerate being treated as fragile, and he sure as hell won't allow mockery. Not that there is any, or has been at all since this all begun. England still can't quite wrap his head around that.

The countries have all chosen spots around the room to sit, both on available seats and on neighbouring beds. France and America both take a seat too, America between England and Canada, and France on the other side of the room, in a spot near Scotland's bed.

England peers closely at his brothers' faces, trying to decide if his hopes are true and they really do believe what they've read on the list. All he can make out is stress, however, with a little hint of relief when they look back at him. The only one who truly gives anything out of the ordinary away is Sealand; the young micronation isn't looking at anyone at all, but is instead curled up on a chair next to Wales with his knees pressed to his chest and his eyes fixed on the floor. England can't make out much of his face, as most of it is pressed into his folded arms, but he can just distinguish quite a meek, haunted look in the child's eyes.

'What happened?' he asks straight away. 'What's th-the emergency?'

Ireland gives him a strange look. 'How'd yeh know there's an emergency?'

'So there is o... one?' England clarifies.

'You sounded a little agitated on the phone,' France tells Wales. 'We made our assumptions.'

'Since when was there an emergency?' Germany asks. 'You told me this gathering was to continue the discussion we all attempted to have the other day.'

'That's our main focus, yeah,' Scotland says. 'But something else happened as well, which we'll get to afterwards.'

'It's… it's important,' Wales admits. 'But it's not going to be understandable for everyone until we're all on the same page.'

So, whatever it is, it's somehow related to the Otherworld, England deduces immediately. He feels cold. There can't have been another attack, and if there was one, it clearly wasn't successful; after all, everyone is present, and no one seems hurt. At least, not physically. England's eyes drift over to Sealand again, and the way Wales seems to hover ever so close to his side, his hand even resting on Sealand's chair almost protectively.

Beside England, America too seems to have notices that something is amiss with the young micronation. He mouths the words you okay, dude? but Sealand just shakes his head and curls up even tighter.

'What h… happened?' England repeats. He doesn't care if the story sounds unbelievable and confusing to the various other nations in the room.

'Listen,' Scotland says in his stop-being-difficult voice that he seems to reserve only for England. 'No one's in danger now, to the extent of our knowledge-'

'So there w-was danger b… before?'

'England,' Wales pleads. 'Just…'

'Fine.' If there truly is no danger now (which he doesn't believe- but then, he always thinks there's danger nowadays), he can drop it until he's finished his part. 'I see y… you've read the list.'

He adds a mouthed thank you to Sealand, but he's not sure if the micronation spots it.

'Yep,' Ireland replies.

'What is the list?' Russia asks.

'Something England wrote for us,' Wales explains. 'For his family. It explains what he remembers so far: where he was and who his kidnappers were. It's all pretty extraordinary- not in a good way. I think…' His eyes meet with England's. 'I think he was concerned that the rest of you would find it hard to believe, on account of it being quite… supernatural.'

England bows his head slightly in confirmation. He knows the other nations' eyes are on him right now, and he doesn't particularly want to look at their faces.

'First things first,' Germany says. 'We were informed that your memories from since you returned have been restored.'

'Yes.'

'You know what year it is?' Japan clarifies.

This is a topic he's been trying to avoid since the drugs wore off and he woke up. This is something he will barely even allow himself to think about. Honestly, this feels almost embarrassing. It seems absurd now, to have managed to forget not only five years, but all the time since he came back. And perhaps it's even more absurd, that every time England wakes up a part of him prays that he truly had been rescued, that he's mistaken in thinking it's been five years since then, that everything that's happening now is just a dream he has woken up from.

If only he could have stayed ignorant for a little while long. But even if he can't see their faces, he knows how they're all looking at him. He can't just pretend otherwise.

'Y... yeah,' he whispers, keenly aware of how dull his own voice sounds. '2015.'

The other nations seem satisfied with his response. England wishes he could share their relief, but it feels impossible. The thought of them all coming to save him had filled with joy, but his little fantasy had been cut down mercilessly; and try as he might, ignoring the thought of it can't work anymore. Once again, like a little crack has appeared in his mind and water is beginning to gush out, his vision blurs with welling tears, and by this point he can barely care whether they fall or not.

'There was something you mentioned when you couldn't remember much,' Russia says unexpectedly. England still doesn't look up, and wonders if Russia is giving his usual smile or wearing the more serious faces he dons on occasion. 'When we asked what the last thing you remember was, you said something about being torn apart.'

Suddenly, England is not here. He is five years in the past, far, far away, being swept up into the jaws of a wolf, with the teeth clamping down on his skin-

'Russia!' someone hisses, and quite a few people shift uncomfortably.

'I'm sure we are all curious,' Russia continues. 'Da, it is certainly an unfavourable topic. But if England does not get upset, we will know he is capable of handling bad topics. It makes discussing sensitive issues easier. Not like it how it all ended up last time. Last time it all went wrong because of a misunderstanding, da?'

England breaths in shakily. He's definitely getting upset, he can feel it. But he supposes what really matters is how he handles it. Even if it's not the answer Russia and the others want, it's something else entirely, something more important to him. It's showing strength.

'No,' he says, very firmly. He just hopes the garbled connection between his scattered thoughts and his mouth will strengthen, just a little bit. The constant stuttering is just one more thing that annoys him. One more thing he's paranoid that someone will mock him about.

'But… how?' Germany asks, his voice a lot softer than usual. 'What exactly do you mean by that-?'

Half of his vision contains the other countries watching him with their serious, pitying faces, the other half is consumed by flashes of sharp teeth and hot blood spraying everywhere-

'No,' England says again, finally looking up at the others. 'Not n-now. Not that.' He may remember where he is and how much time has passed and what's going on, but that doesn't make his any less ready to talk about the wolves. He may be fragile in the head and delusional about almost everything, be it his hallucinations or his lasting distrust in others, but that doesn't mean he can't put his foot down and decide if and when he discusses what happened on that night five years ago.

Russia's face is mostly blank, but England spots a lingering element of respect. He hasn't answered the question, but he's proved himself strong anyway by taking charge.

'Alright,' Wales says gently. 'Okay. Later, maybe?'

England nods, though he's not sure there will ever be a later for something like that.

'You are still ready to talk, England-san? About the things you wanted to tell us all about?' Japan says.

England is briefly overwhelmed with the urge to halt this discussion before it's all out in the open. He forces the feeling away immediately. He can't be getting cold feet now. It's time.

'I n... need to explain,' he announces. 'It's t-taken me long e... enough.'

The chase and the wolves need to go. He can't be thinking about that. He'll break down again if he dwells on it any longer. He can't afford to do that, not when he's dead set on proving that he can handle the goings on inside his head. He closes his eyes very briefly and pushes it as far away from him as possible inside his mind, burying it as best he can with all the other thoughts that come rushing in for the explanation he's finally going to give. And he knows it won't work properly; trying not to think about something is nearly impossible. But maybe, with enough distractions, he might just manage.

'The place th-that I ended up in, b... back in 2-2010,' he begins. 'It, um...' The chances of everyone believing him seem quite slim, but England can hardly care by this point. At least there's several others in the room now who could back him up.

'You remember where it was?' Germany asks.

'I've k... known for a l-little while now,' England says. 'There was n-never a good time t... to say. And I knew it w-would seem t... too impossible f... for you all.'

'Try us,' Russia says simply.

England's eyes find Ireland's. He's the one who's seen and heard the worst of what England's dealing with, having been in the park on that morning. The elder gives his younger brother an encouraging nod of the head.

England turns to Wales, and then to Scotland as he talks. 'I don't know if y-you've figured out the r... reason you couldn't sense m-me when I disappeared. M-my life force really w... was c-cut off from this w... world. They severed it f-from my l-land and people w... when they t-took me. Basically, the equivalent of b-being dead.' A perfectly logical mistake to make, he adds internally, but he doesn't want his brothers thinking he's comfortable with his death announcement now.

'We've gathered that much,' Wales confirms.

''They'? And 'ow is that even possible?' France asks.

'I was c... cut off from this world b-because I w... wasn't part of it anymore. I wasn't here.'

'And he doesn't mean, like, he went to the moon or anything,' America adds quickly, and England shoots him a glare that isn't nearly as filthy as it would usually be. Honestly, America's comment diffused the tension massively and was very America-like on top of that, and England is secretly grateful.

'What do you mean you weren't part of this world anymore?' Japan says immediately. 'I'm sorry, but I don't follow.'

But Germany has focused on something else. He turns on America. 'You knew where he was? I thought the British Isles were the only ones who saw this list. How come you know more than us?'

This is bad, England believes immediately. He feels as if he can almost see the cogs turning in the other nations' heads as they draw their conclusions what this might mean. Perhaps someone of them did believe the story Scotland told them about America. Or perhaps he is once again allowing his mind to spin wild, paranoid theories. 'He had n... nothing to do w-with it,' England says quickly.

'England, we know,' Canada says calmly, although he and a few of the others cast worried glances at Scotland.

Scotland himself doesn't seem affected in the slightest. Without looking at the others, he simply nods his head at England, urging him to continue.

'I j-just… I wasn't sure if-'

'No one's throwing blame at anyone in this room today,' Scotland says abruptly. This really does get stares now.

'Not even from you, Écosse?' France says boldly.

Scotland's face is like stone. 'We're all here to listen to England's story. That's it.'

Next to England, America breathes a very small sigh of relief.

'But just out of curiosity,' Russia says pleasantly to England, once again bluntly going for a sensitive topic, 'why did you say the other day that you believed Scotland when he-'

'All I meant,' England says through gritted teeth, scared that the nations might cause another uproar if he doesn't handle this carefully, 'is th-that I understand why Scotland w-would think that. And I w-would have explained why if y... you all hadn't started sh... shouting.'

The nations look a little abashed by this, and are all thankfully silent. England continues, 'It all t-ties in together. And I'll g-get to that. But first... the other w... world.' He scans all their faces for incredulity or ridicule, but finds nothing other than confusion. So they don't actually disbelieve him. Yet.

'What exactly do you mean by another world, England-san?' Japan asks politely.

'The entity. I t-told you all it came from the m… mirror. It's always the reflections, l… like those g-glass sheets when Scotland fell.'

'What is?' Italy says.

'Another d… dimension. The sort of p-place where c-creatures like the entity dwell. The O... Otherworld. The Otherworld,' England says pointedly, focusing on his brothers again because he knows they already understand this part.

'Another world,' Germany says slowly. It doesn't sound like a question, but more of a shocked statement. England's stomach twists anxiously as he looks round the room at the other nations. They're all staring at him in shock. He can't spot belief or disbelief yet. He supposes they probably need a bit of time to process it.

Wales's expression is soft, a comforting sight at this time. 'You're certain it's the Otherworld?'

'A... Absolutely. How many dimensions d-do we even kn… know of, anyway?'

'I didn't know it was possible to go there,' Scotland pipes up. 'I mean, there's all those theories about goin' there when yeh die, but when yeh're alive? That's just... that must've been-'

'Hell,' England says, his voice hoarse. 'Yes.'

'Wait, just 'old on a second,' France puts in, raising his hands to his head. 'Another world. That's… that's…'

'Unbelievable? Yeah, p… probably,' England says dejectedly. He's losing hope, fast.

'Sorry, but... what exactly is the Otherworld?' Canada asks. Many of the others look equally as confused, yet somehow Canada isn't quite as surprised as them about the whole thing.

'Like England said, it's another dimension,' Ireland replies, fixing England with a rather worried look. 'We've always believed that it might be some kinda afterlife, if yeh believe in that sorta thing. It's got a nickname 'hell' for a reason. Whatever it is, we know it's the one that demons live in. That entity that attacked yeh all, that woulda come from the Otherworld. It got through the mirror, didn't it? That's how creatures like that get into this world from theirs: through reflections. And with a lot of dark magic on top of that.'

'And that's where you were?' France asks England. He seems serious, and not as if he's going to laugh and accuse England of making up stories. No one's making fun of England. It's so surreal, England's not entirely sure he isn't still unconscious and he's merely dreaming.

He looks up from his shaking hands and surveys the group. 'You b... believe m-me?'

'Well, we all saw the entity,' Germany says, nodding at the other members of the G8. He seems uncomfortable, though not in a disbelieving way; more in a way that suggests that he is taking this seriously, and he only wishes it weren't true. 'That thing attacked us. If something like that can exist, then... well, it must have come from somewhere.'

'Besides,' Japan says, 'what reason would you have to lie? After whatever it is you've been through, what would you gain from it? Yes, England-san. We believe you. Or I do, anyway,' he adds, casting meaningful looks at the other countries.

'You d-don't think I'm j... just crazy?' England presses on.

'Yeh're not crazy,' Ireland says. 'Yeh've just been through some shit. There's a difference.'

'B-but I am h... hallucinating,' England admits. 'I'm sure y-you all know th... that. And there's a r... reason for it. The Otherworld isn't l-like w-what we always thought it w... was. It's... very d-different to h... how those of us who kn-knew of it imagined it to b-be.'

'How so?' Russia asks.

He may have them believing so far, but he doubts they'll want to after this part. 'I... I l-lied about the m-mirror. When I w... went to examine it t-to see if I c... could find traces on it. I d-did.'

'You recognised it?' Italy says, eyes wide open. 'Who was it?'

At the risk of causing an uproar like the one last time with his answer, England very reluctantly says, 'Me.'

When no one speaks (England is not sure which is worse- everyone yelling or everyone waiting in horrified silence), he continues, 'The magic on th-the shards was m-mine. But d... different. Twisted. I d-didn't do it. B... But someone l-like me did. Someone almost e... exactly like m-me.'

'Other you,' America says very quietly, and England is quite impressed. He's always known that America isn't half as dim-witted as he likes to act. The young nation really does have his moments. Of course, America knows the world England was in is parallel- England was determined beforehand to make that abundantly clear before he passed out. He also has a sneaking suspicion that America has formed a way of chasing England's delusions out of his head- England suffered from a brief hallucination earlier as he was leaving the psych ward, and the younger nation seemed to recognise it, because he then started joking around playfully, making the difference between himself and his counterpart as clear as ever.

'Y-yes,' England says. 'Other m-me.'

'What does that mean?' Italy inquires, glancing around as if anyone can offer him an answer.

'Parallel,' Canada breathes in realisation, and England peers up at him in bewilderment.

'You k-know about that?'

Canada seems quite bashful now. 'Ireland and I found you and America just as you were about to pass out. You probably didn't see us. We didn't mean to eavesdrop but we did hear you mention something about this other world... and about it being parallel.'

'Sorry- parallel?' Germany splutters. 'As in identical? First, we find out there's some other dimension out there, then you tell us it's parallel?'

'I'm n-not lying,' England says hotly.

Germany quickly regains his composure. 'No, I'm not suggesting that.'

'It's just… this is all very surprising, England-san,' Japan adds. 'It's a lot to take in.'

'Parallel,' France echoes. 'Like... with other versions of everything in this world? Other versions of our cities, other versions of our lands-'

'Other v-versions of u... us,' England finishes quietly, flashes of bright blue and burning red eyes crossing through his head.

'The people who took you... were parallel versions of... us?' Japan asks, his eyes open wide.

They believe me. Who would have thought it? England bites his lip. 'Th... they're not l-like us. They have o-our names, our b-basic appearances, our r-roles as nations... as far as I'm aware. B-but that's it. I only r... remember two of them so f-far. But if the others are a... anything like them, th... then... they're b-bad. Very, v-very bad. Their w-world is bad. It's b... broken and sick to th... the c-core.'

'What do you mean by that?' France asks uneasily.

'It's just…' England closes his eyes. 'They're cruel. Worse than us. Like th-they're living through the d… darkest part of their history. Except they w-weren't being m… made to by their people. I d-don't remember even seeing any humans.' He thinks of London burning, and how Other England told him the people were responsible. 'They were out there s… somewhere, d-doing terrible things as w-well. The n-nations in that world were intent of… c-causing destruction, I th-think, and th-they're not stopping now. I may have c-come back here, b-but that hasn't stopped th-them from c… coming after me. That n-never stopped them from sending the entity, or f… from attacking Scotland.'

'It was the other America who pushed Scotland then, I assume,' Russia says. He sounds incredibly intrigued.

'Which is what led Scotland to believe…' Germany says, beginning to realise.

'Yeah,' Scotland says. His face is flushed.

'It is strange that you were both right and wrong,' Russia says, almost as if he's a little amused.

'So, my other self is a total psycho,' America mutters. 'Great.'

'It sounds as if they all are,' Canada murmurs.

'P-possibly,' England says. 'L-like I said, I only r… remember two of them so far.'

'The other Amérique being one of them, presumably?' France guesses. 'And the other being… you?'

England nods, beginning to feel a little lightheaded, either from the shock of them all believing or perhaps because he's not well enough to be up for this long. He decides not to mention anything.

'What did the other me do to you?' America says quietly.

England stares at him. His hands are starting to shake again. He swears he can feel a tingling sensation over the parts of his skin where the scars reside.

'I'm assuming your hallucinations have involved… remembering the other America, in some form or other, often when you look at this America,' Wales puts in. Which is why you've been extremely uncomfortable around him, is the part that goes unsaid among the nations.

'It must have been pretty bad,' America continues, his voice a lot lower than usual. His eyes won't meet England's. 'Whatever it was he did to you.'

England swallows anxiously and turns to America, shaking his head slightly. Later. America seems to get the message, and thankfully goes quiet.

'I've got about a m-month and a half of m… memory back so far. Up until around C-Christmas.' England glances at Sealand again to see if the child might offer his input, but he stays completely silent. This is too odd. Sealand should be jumping at the opportunity to finally announce that he knew more than them all along, and that everyone should have listened to him, but instead he's still curled up on his chair, his face mostly hidden.

'What happened?' England asks one more time.

Upon realising that he is addressing his younger brother, the other nations turn and look down at the micronation curiously. England instantly regrets this, not wanting to draw attention to the clearly distressed child, so he focuses on his older brothers instead.

'What w-was the emergency?' he demands.

'Well… now that we've got everything else out the way, I guess we should explain,' Scotland begins awkwardly. 'There was an incident. With a mirror. And yer, uh… counterpart.'

'The bad England?' Italy says nervously. England secretly wonders if this makes him the 'good' England. That doesn't sound right at all, especially coming from someone who used to be terrified of him like Italy. But then, times are changing. Italy came to visit him today, and even brought those flowers. Maybe he is the good England now, especially next to his counterpart.

You're not good, says a nasty little voice in his head. They made you one of them. Your soul is still tethered to their world, just like the fae said.

Although worryingly tempting, England thinks that smacking his head against something solid won't be received well among the other nations, and so he resists the urge profusely.

'He w-was here?' he asks quietly.

'He didn't hurt anyone,' Ireland says. 'Just gave Sea a bit of a fright.'

There's a sinking feeling in England's stomach. 'You saw him?' he croaks.

'The other England was here?' Canada asks apprehensively, casting a nervous glance around the room as if expecting to still find him here.

'He's gone now,' Ireland says. 'We don't think he'll be returning today. But… we figured yeh should all have a heads up on this: I don't think any of us are safe. These other nations, they mean business. We ain't exactly sure what said business is, but yeh all need to be prepared. Yeh've all seen what they're capable of doing so far. We should all be on alert. This other England wasn't exactly hostile today, but he could have been. And to a kid, no less.'

Sealand shudders slightly, and England realises that he isn't the only one who isn't comfortable talking about certain matters at the present time. He immediately feels awful.

'Are y… you okay?' he asks, practically in unison with America.

Sealand finally lifts his head up and looks at England with slightly bloodshot eyes.

'Worried about me, jerk?' Although he sounds utterly miserable, there's that familiar hint of playfulness in his voice, along with the return of that old insult.

From the disturbed glances being shot between the various different nations at each other over the last few minutes and the air of finality about this conversation, England can tell this meeting is drawing to a close. The other countries will need some space to process everything himself, and he himself can feel that he needs more rest. He doesn't fear sleep all too much at the moment- in fact, he feels as if he deserves a good rest. The sinking feeling of dread inside him has finally disappeared, leaving only a giddy sense of relief in its wake. He supposes sharing everything did bring him some form of satisfaction after all.

Sealand looks back and forth between America and England, before mumbling, 'Your counterparts are terrible.'

'Yes,' England says solemnly, momentarily blinded by flashes of leering blue and red eyes. 'Y-yes, they truly are.'

'But what is it they wanted with you in the first place? Why do they still want you now?' France asks. Everyone simply stares at England, both with a mixture of curiosity and some kind of marvel; as if there's something strangely reverent about him being chosen of all nations, as well as horrifying and dismaying. Because there must be something truly important about the whole thing, about England, for them to pull such drastic measures to do all of this to him.

'I wish I knew,' he whispers.


My Hetalia blog: infinitalia . tumblr . com

The Ash Song page on my blog: infinitalia . tumblr . com [slash] ash - song

I think I should actually do something with my Hetalia blog. I've finally got a new, working laptop that I've yet to screw up so I can use my drawing tablet and actually draw fanart or something. I'm literally so invested in creating this story that I want to draw some art for it; the furthest I've gone is a moodboard that I haven't even posted yet lol. If any of you want to create stuff, feel free. I actively encourage it. Someone made some amazing fanart ages back and I was honestly so touched.

I figured after all the weird shit the G8 have seen over the last week, they will be fairly accepting of England's story- but they obviously find it shocking, and need a bit of time to fully process it. If I'm honest, I just wanted to give England at least one little break. He doesn't deserve having people telling him he's lying, or that he's delusional about the whole thing. I'm not entirely sure the rest of the world, when they find out (and they will. Oh, that's coming alright) are going to be as accepting about the whole thing. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I have a nice collection of reviews that are several paragraphs long and full of swearing and capital letters and enthusiasm, and honestly those are my faves. I got one just over a week ago where someone was so happy this story wasn't incomplete, was only updated 2 months ago, the author (that's me btw, hi) was still working on it and that there was still hope for it. Honestly, same buddy, same. This story is like my lifeblood by this point. I've been writing this story over a prolonged period of incredibly bad health, and it's kind of one of my main goals that I accomplish every two months, give or take. You know: remember to go outside once in a while. Try doing adult stuff. Update Ash Song. That sort of thing. I'm a maladaptive daydreamer, and you would not believe how much time I spend dwelling on what I'm going to do with it. If I stop writing it, assume I've died.

Wtf am I gonna do with it when it's finished, honestly? I have ideas for more stories. More ideas than you can shake a stick at. Oh geez.

Anyway, if I do include the two flashback scenes in the next chapter, you guys will be seeing a lot of America and Sealand. I also want to write a present day scene with the 2Ps, because I gotta shove 'em into the spotlight at some point. I'm really excited about writing why they are the way they are, and what they're currently thinking. England and Sealand need a talk too. And Scotland owes America an apology.

So, a long af chapter as the main course and two very long optional A/Ns for dessert... that's a lot of hard work. I should sleep. Or make a film, write a novel and draw a bunch of fanart. Imma go with that.

Thanks for reading, and remember to review!

Toodles!