Chapter 1. Turning a New Leaf
Summary: In a fit of rage, America had admitted England into a mental asylum to teach him a lesson. The institute wasn't simply a medical psychiatry, instead it was a haven of darkness, reducing his former caretaker to a shadow of his former self. As the nations stared into the broken emeralds, they lamented their sweet memories with the once proud nation and they knew they could never rest until they could bring the kindness and warmth back to those empty irises.
Disclaimer: Since I am not in Soviet Russia, I unfortunately do not own Hetalia.
Warning: Nothing for this chapter aside from the obligatory swearing and Alfred being selfish. Future chapters will contain torture, violence, dub-con sexual brutality, drug overdose, depression and infantilism.
"In every end, there is also a beginning."
― Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty
The World Conference had not been known to be productive, if at all. This day was no exception to the rule, as the conference hall had once again erupted in moans and arguments.
Squirming uncomfortably, England wanted nothing more but to head back to his hotel room for a well deserved rest. Ever the argumentative nation, he would be raising enquiries or engaging in a brawl with France if it were any other day.
Not today, though.
Fourth of July had not been kind to the British nation. It was a improvement compared to the previous year, in which he was rendered bedridden; but he was having a throbbing headache and heavy legs. America's boisterous voice offered no assistance to his case as it had inadvertently brought him down the painful memory lane, his body trembling as he struggled to suppress the stream of blood threatening to rush out of his sore, hurting throat.
Then, America yelled through the noises, the loud nation's voice cutting through all the racket.
"Dudes, let's go with my plan of building a superhero for world peace and prosperity! Come on, it's easy and we can all end this early and have fun at my birthday party instead of being stuck in this stuffy room for this boring ass meeting…" America's azure eyes twinkled in delight as he thought of the annual party; it was his big event and he could hardly wait a second longer.
England could feel tears welling up in his eyes as the reminiscence from that fateful day replayed in his head. That was precisely why he did not want to be here, hearing his former charge rambling about his independence celebration, cheering for the anniversary of the day he abandoned him. A cry tore its way out of his throat before he could stifle himself, and droplets of blood dripped down from his mouth as he scrambled in search for his handkerchief.
America's eyes darkened as the commotions were stopped by the scream, his gaze settling on the British nation.
"Artie, I thought you're feeling better since you come today and all that shit. You gotta come with us today, you hear? I will take good care of you and have fun at my awesomesauce party, you're gonna feel better in no time."
"No, I will not subject myself to your humiliation!" Emerald burning in fury, the British nation's voice broke in emotion. "I won't go and celebrate the day you said good riddance to me!"
"You'll go." America's eyes narrowed. "Even if it means I'll have to twist your arm. I have a surprise in store for you and I'm not gonna let you miss it!"
"No means no, America." Voice thick with hurt and anger, England glared at his former child. "Haven't you done enough? Haven't I suffered enough for your glee?" Sighing in exasperation, his tone was filled with exhaustion and defeat. "Just stop this childish act. You can't expect everything to go your way. I am not to be toyed with at your whims and fancies."
"You're just stick in the past, dreaming and wishing that I'm that little boy again who you can dump and profit from any time! What's wrong with how I am now?"
Blond locks had shielded England's irises as he kept his head down. "Things were better then, won't you agree?"
"Duh, no because I am perfectly happy with where I am standing right now! That's all in the past now, there's nothing you can do to change it!"
He expected England to remain quiet without a comeback, but the petite nation had surprised him as he muttered. "No… All it takes is a spell…"
"A spell? Now who's the childish one? Magic doesn't exist, old man! It's merely your imagination!"
"It does! I know you can't see it, but I swear that it does! Just like the unicorn I have gifted you!"
"It's just your mind playing tricks on you! You're having delusions, and I didn't say it to your face because I know you're lonely and desperate!"
"You pride yourself as being my guardian, but what kind of guardian won't even attend their kid's birthday party and ignore the fact that they have grown up? Shouldn't you be proud?" Anger shrouded the superpower's eyes. He had prepared to turn a new leaf concerning his relationship with the other nation, and he wouldn't have his wish denied. Since when did a superpower fail to get his desires fulfilled in the world? "A bad one, that's what! So you only bother to be kind when I'm your obedient golden boy, huh? You're just like that crazy king of yours! I'm glad I leave, you're a cold-blooded lying tyrant who doesn't even try to be understanding! I don't need a lunatic like you, not now, not ever!"
A heavy silence fell upon the room. That was when Germany decided to take the matter into his hand and intervened.
"America, Britain, both of you stop at this instant! America, cease this topic!" Germany glared at the two English-speaking countries, though his eyes widened when he saw the stray tears that had fell and dampened England's pale cheeks. "And Britain, go and rest up. You're excused."
After a stiff nod directed to Germany, England did not wait before hurrying out of the room, not wishing the embarrass himself further by letting every present nation witnessing him cry.
America stood up immediately, unwilling to let the other personification left his sight. "Wait, Arthur! Don't go!"
He closed the distance between them as he rushed to England's side, catching his wrist in his palm to pull him over.
His head lowered, England spit his words out, voice low but clear. "What? Staying for further insults? I am not interested in that, farewell."
Then he disappeared, leaving America gaping at his retreating figure.
In his haste to leave the room, England had failed to notice his star-shaped wand had fell out of his pocket.
The star's gentle glow lit up the floor, but it was neglected and forgotten.
The meeting had ended with tension in air.
America kicked the pebbles in frustration on his way back home, his festive mood was effectively ruined.
That was when he overheard a conversation between two of his citizens.
"Hey, how's your sister? Still the same?"
"Yeah, I don't see any hope of that changing soon. She is still suffocatingly clingy, insisting on taking care of me as if I am still a child! Well, sorry to break the news, but I have grown up and am perfectly capable. If anyone needs caring, it is her with her childish fantasy of magic and fairies. It was cute when it lasted, but we are both adults now and she should leave that la la land behind ages ago!"
America's ears perked up.
He might not have known them personally, but the sister mentioned reminded him of a certain Brit. Claiming that magic was real and being stuck in the past, wasn't them awfully similar?
"I think you should really consider taking her to a psychiatrist. This looks like a severe case and the longer you wait, the worse it will become. If I have to say it, it sounds like she is suffering from a case of schizophrenia."
"Schizophrenia?"
"You did say she is seeing hallucinations. A disability to differentiate imaginations and reality is a clear sign of it."
England had always been rambling about his fairies and imaginary friends. Perhaps… he was suffering from the same ailment this girl had? He wasn't sure if a nation would suffer from mental illnesses like their human children, but the flashback of England's words had reinforced his determination.
No.
He would not have him speak to him like that. He had been trying to mend their relationship for centuries, but the other personification had done nothing other than pushing him away. Some timeout might work wonders, and England would realise he needed the contacts and interactions, knowing it was better if he just accepted America was a grown nation who could stand on his own and deserve his respect and amiability.
A mental institution might be what he had been looking for the entire time to change England into a better person. It would certainly do him good if he would let go of those fantasies he had and started to forge friendship with real nations and people.
Pulling out his phone, America swiftly typed in search of England's new residence, waiting in bated breath as the search results were pulled up by his ever trustworthy search engine.
That was when a photo caught his attention. Located on a faraway island, the institute was isolated from bustling civilisation. It was nigh impossible to find unless you knew what you were looking for.
The Sanctuary Psychiatric Hospital
"Welcome to Your New Life!"
Review:
4/5 by acaringmom101
My daughter was admitted here two years ago. She comes back to us as the obedient girl before it all went wrong. The staff here has done a wonderful job for our family!
The only concern here is that transportation has been a hassle. It is secluded on an island, making visits scarce and difficult.
5/5 by newlifeprospect
My son was in need of serious medication before being sent here. This is a perfect sanatorium for security and privacy. Thankfully he's been finally getting better after all those asylum admissions!
5/5 by wonderfultransformation
My brother returned to our household a changed person. He was nice and quiet, nothing like the paranoiac man I have gotten used to. I can't thank this institution enough!
Perfect.
Knowing that England's royal family would not be pleased with his idea, a remote asylum was the best bet for hiding his former brother's whereabouts. It was highly probable; no, scratch that; it was certain that a diplomatic row would break out between their countries if they were to find out.
Enough was enough.
He wasn't going to back out of this just for a fear of backlash. England needed to be taught a lesson to treat him as an equal and actually be considerate when he was extending a hand of friendship.
Before he could regret it, he dialed the number listed on the website.
"Hello, this is the Sanctuary Psychiatric Hospital. How can I help you?"
"Hey, I want to admit a patient to your wards. The name's Arthur Kirkland, a Brit aged 23." The words felt strange on his tongue. He had never called England by his full human alias; and the first time he used it, it was sending him locked away in a lunatic asylum.
"That's unfortunate. Can I have more information on the symptoms the patient displays so we will know what to expect on arrival?"
"He sees… things. Things that don't really exist, fairies, pixies and unicorns; you name it, you get it. I heard it is the symptom of some difficult s-word. And he still treats me like I'm still his baby boy even though I have left ages ago, I'm sure that's some unhealthy obsession there. He won't go down without a fight, so you all can expect things will get steamy. Teach him a lesson, alright? I'm counting on you guys."
"Schizophrenia? That sounds like a case of it. Coupled with obsession and violence tendency, he would likely be confined to a maximum security ward given how dangerous he is. You have done a good job in in contacting us, the society would be safer with him in our care."
He nodded even though the operator could not see him. This was it. I have done it.
"Can I have your name and your relationship to the patient? We have to make sure you are a immediate family."
"I'm Alfred F. Jones." He paused when he thought of who England was to him. Guardian? Brother? Friend? Ally? Love? At this point, he could no longer tell. Despite he had fought a war over it, he knew it would be safest to go with "brother". "... Brother. I'm his brother. He used to take care of me when I was young."
"Thanks, Mr Jones. Please tell us where he is so we can arrange transportation to retrieve him immediately."
The nations often had their regular meetings at the United Nations building in New York, and America was privy to the information of their residence so updates and notifications could be readily given to the participating nations. England was no exception, not to mention he had settled down in a comfortable routine concerning accommodations whether he arrived at New York for a meeting. It only took seconds to find out which hotel he had booked and which room he was staying in.
"Noted. Anything else you may want us to take care of?"
His decision would not be popular among Canada and France. Causing a huge scene when they were capturing Arthur was going to blow this, and America knew better to let such small details brought his plan down.
"Get him in discreet, don't let people know you are there to capture him and protect his identity. His socialising circle is fairly large and I don't want people poking their noses in where they don't belong. I am his only relative, and any others had disowned him already or simply didn't care." It was a blatant lie, but America was no stranger to lying.
"You can reach me by this number. Give me a call once he has been transferred."
Ending the call, America took a long stride to open the front door of his house, bathing himself in the joyous lights and laughter of his Independence Day.
Author's Note: Nations usually call others by their country name during meetings. In Arthur's case, he is usually referred to as "Britain" by them unless he's with his brothers. Francis is a notable exception since he has been calling him Angleterre ever since they have met, same with nations who have know him for a long time and do not bother with changing how they call him. Alfred is never one to follow these rules and regulations, tending to call them by nicknames instead.
