This chapter is considered "Safe For Work."

***Warnings: Blood, Guns, Violence, Death threats. ***

***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor the characters in this chapter. The plot is mine.***

A hum came from his lips as he strolled by, his keys jangling in his pocket and the tune matching his footsteps. The Italian examined the large building before him, tilting his hat back in fascination. Architecture had always been a hobby of his and this was a fine looking building, especially with its wide stretched doors and magnificent windows. In a way, this hotel reminded him of home. It seemed Japan's people did have a knack for taste.

Snapping from his thoughts, Italy strolled into the building, smoothly slipping into the elevator unnoticed by the security guards. He continued to hum before stopping, a hand tugging on his. He turned his head to spot the small child who had parted from her mother, now tugging curiously at this strange man. The child, no older than four, seemed to blink with fascination. Her hair had been neatly combed back and braided and her dress wrinkled from excessive actions. With a grin, the nation squatted, making them eye level. His eyes lit up in mischievous as the child stared even more. "Ciao, bella," he greeted softly with a tip of his hat. Her eyes seemed to grow at his foreign accent and language. "How are you?"

The child blinked a few times before turning to her mother and speaking fluent Japanese. Italy gave a small laugh, his eyebrows tilted upward. "Me dispiace, my Japanese is a bit rusty at the moment but-"

A muffled bang stopped him midsentence and he looked to the door. It had almost sounded like... A gun. Italy straightened and the little girl ran over to her mother, clinging on tightly. The elevator pulled to a halt and the pair left, a small nod of apology from the mother. Italy waved back to communicate it was no big deal. As the doors closed again, his smile faded. That gunshot would probably be where he was going.

As the metal box pulled to a halt once more, the Italian scurried through the hallways in search of the suite. His footsteps were muffled by the carpeting but the swish swish grew ever louder as he moved faster and faster. Only when he stood at the doorway, fist raised to knock, did he allow himself to catch his breath and ponder. What would be behind this door? What would have happened? No, it was not good to think on this. He needed to act. He rapped the door, his hand falling to his side and waiting.

The door opened and Italy jumped back a bit in surprise, wondering why he had not carried a weapon with him. Oh right. Security could have seen it. The Italian tensed, waiting for the worst. Instead, he found a tall blonde looking down at him casually with an irritated air. America nodded, the corner of his lip seeming clenched not to lash out. "Vargas, you're late."

The Italian chuckled nervously, allowing his body to relax. "Why, I was given the wrong address so I would believe I would be late," he explained to the best of his abilities. America was a no nonsense guy so the excuse probably wouldn't save him from anything. Hopefully, it would lighten the air. "Kiku! Tells me not to... trust..." He trailed off, staring at America's arm. His eyes batted a few times, trying to discern what he was seeing on America's exposed tricep. "Is that blood?" Italy asked, voice soft and unbelieving. Who the hell did they shoot?

The American turned his attention to his exposed arm before nodding, hurriedly. He seemed antsy to get this conversation out of the hall and into the room. "Yeah, yeah. Just get inside." He opened the door, having the Italian step in himself. For a moment, he considered staying outside. Something has happened and his fight or flight sensors were going haywire. Stepping in there would mean no escape. His red eyes stared at the bare minimum he saw of the room, more blood splattered over the carpet. He sighed deeply before complying to America's command. As a mediator he would have to take caution in what he might find… But find peace nonetheless.

The door closing behind him and all conscious eyes in the room turned to the newcomer. Italy stared at each in shock. His eyes first settled on France on the ground first, who had stopped his work for a moment before going back down and grumbling. He worked tediously on removing the rather large blood stain on the carpet, complaining about his back and disrespect every other sentence. Italy would have offered to assist him had he not been curious who the blood was from.

Red eyes then shifted, going in the kitchenette area. China had paused from cooking, in mid stir. Realizing it was only Italy, he shrugged a bit forcefully and continued. His stature, usually relaxed and purposely downplayed, had an edge to it now. Arms tight to his body, hand gripping the cooking utensils tightly, the food being treated like enemies instead of… well, food.

Again, his attention moved on, stopping at the one place he should have noticed first. Gasping, he stood back, hand over his chest. Here England was, enjoying a nice cup of tea and offering a forced (even more than usual) smile while next to him Japan was tied to a chair and regenerating. The bullet hole through his chest slowly was coming back together, blood surrounding the wound. No sound came from the host nation.

Italy could only stare in disbelief, eyes wide like a fish. "…What did you do to Kiku?" He whispered, almost at a lost of words. It had been a while since he'd seen another nation treated like this. Like the enemy. Whatever could have brought up this response?

"We just tied him up," America stated plainly, grabbing a towel and getting off the dried blood as much as possible. He wiped it off in quick motions, forceful, before seating himself in the living area, his back to the table. "He was going nuts just before you came here. Had to put him down." China flipped the food again in agitation, unnecessarily adding extra oomph in his cooking.

Italy took a deep breath, standing tall and allowing his hands to fall to his side. His eyes did not move from his tied up friend. "And who is the one who shot him?"

The cheery Brit raised an hand, placing his cup and saucer on the table calmly. Eyes raised, England stared at him cooly. "I shot him." His voice remained void of guilt and recompense. He stirred ever so slightly, as if reaching for something.

Click.

Italy stumbled back a few steps at the sight of the weapon now trained on him. "I will shoot you, too," England announced, not in the slightest joking, "If you try to untie him."

The Italian stared at the pistol before nodding slowly, not really wanting to make the situation worse than it already was. The Brit smiled, slipping the pistol back under the table and onto his lap. "Good. Now, take a seat, Feliciano. Let's chat."

Carefully, Italy moved to one of the chairs of the table, tense. He shifted his gaze ever so slightly to China and America who didn't seem to move. Did England make them so tense?

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you." Red eyes once more settled on England. "Now, I'm tired of this little game." His blue eyes narrowed, searching the other nation's face. "Tell me what Honda is hiding."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Italy refused. They were right to keep her hidden. He couldn't discern that light in England's eyes but he expected the worse: bloodlust. England would kill Belarus without a second thought... "Kiku isn't hiding anything."

"On the contrary," England argued. A small black object was raised in the air, barely visible between his pressed fingertips. "We found a tap on him. This means he's hiding everything."

A low groan emerged from the host nation, stirring slightly. The bullet hole was barely visible behind the pierced clothing. England shifted the gun, not moving his eyes from Italy, and pressed the end against Japan's head. The unconscious nation stirred ever so slightly at the cool touch of metal but did not awaken.

"If you don't tell me, I will shoot him again. Do not test me." None of the other nations in the room moved to stop him. The Italian dug his fingers into his pant legs, grinding his teeth. As much as he hated it, Japan could handle these gun shots. It would be painful but he would survive. Belarus wouldn't. His eyes closed, imaging the independent young woman who had unsteadily placed her trust in them. She just wants to go home. I cannot allow her to die.

England's finger slowly pulled the trigger. The bullet hole would have closed up completely by now, showing no sign of having been there in the first place. Japan would gain consciousness any minute. "I will count to three." Italy said nothing, staring at the gun, pain across his face.

"One."

No words were heard. A gulp was.

"Two."

Silence seemed to have become deafening. Italy's hands clenched tighter. I'm sorry, Kiku.

"Th-"

RING.

The Brit removed his finger from the trigger. The room let out a breath. England stared at America in exasperation. "Is it him?" America fumbled with his phone, hurriedly checking the collar ID. He looked back and nodded. Sighing, England lowered the gun. "Answer it on speaker."

America did as he was told, pressing a series of buttons before staring at the screen. "Braginski," he scolded, the tightness in his voice growing subtler at an averted crisis. "You're late."

"Last time I checked, I did not need to report to you, Jones," a man on the other side hissed. However, his voice seemed to be a bit on the.. Elated side. Such a tone was not usual of the Russian.

America ground his teeth, nose scrunching in disgust at the disrespect. "Why the hell did you take so long?"

Glad for the distraction, Italy watched as Japan's eyes fluttered open and met his. Italy held a finger up to his lips to keep his friend quiet but the gun was again pressed against his head, making a clearer message. Japan did not speak, his head tilting away from the gun ever so slightly.

"I had to make a stop at Belarus." At the name, Italy and Japan straightened. "My sister is tagging along."

"No," America stated. "Send her back right now."

A curt laugh replied. "I do not need to listen to you."

England pressed the gun into Japan's head. "But you need to listen to the Security Council," he interrupted, not moving his gaze from the Italian. "Send her back."

"I will not." A murmur was heard and the shuffling of hands. America's face scrunched up in confusion.

"Mr. Jones?" A sweet, familiar voice began. "This is Natalya."

He sighed. "Arlofskaya, you need to go back to your home. This is Security Council business and-"

"Oh, but I have business here, too~" Stunned, America's sunglasses shifted ever so slightly at the widening of his eyes. Japan and Italy exchanged glances, their blood running cold. Did the Belarus of this world know?

"You do, Natalya?" A voice on the other line asked in surprise.

"Of course, Big Brother!" The room was shocked into a deeper silence. Did she just...?

"Arlofskaya?" America interrupted. "Are you... All right?"

"I must say, I am not," she replied, her voice eerily bright. "After all, someone else-" Her voice halted, ensued by a mischievous giggle.

America's grip on his phone tightened. "Natalya Arlofskaya, what the hell are you hiding from us?"

"A girl never reveals her secrets." A series of abrupt noises rang through the line ending with the sound of an opening car door. Yells filled the line, mostly in Russian.

"NATALYA! GET BACK HERE!" A frantic Russian screamed before turning his attention back the phone call. "She just jumped from the car!"

"GO AFTER HER!" America bellowed, standing in his frustration. "She knows what's going on!"

"What?"

"Japan stared acting psycho a couple of minutes ago going 'Kill her!' Your sister might be in on it!"

Silence. "...I will find her. I expect a full report when I meet you at the hotel." He hung up.

America's hand lowered and tossed his phone on the opposite couch. He stared at the table before violently kicking it over. It clattered on the ground. France sent him an exasperated look, glad that it didn't hit him. "Calm down."

"I'm calm," he hissed. "I'm so fucking calm that I could look like-"

"Shut up, Al-fred." England tapped his saucer and cup on the table, balancing it in one hand as the other remained with the gun. China silently came over, filling the cup once more. "We need to get to the bottom of things and this everlasting loop of 'I don't know' is getting annoying." His eyes settled on Italy, cold and dark. "Tell us what's going on."

Japan stared at the Italian intensely, trying to signal him not to. His eyes bore into his, pleading, where his voice could not. For a moment, it seemed he was… scared.

"I will shoot him."

Italy said nothing. He took a deep breath and stared at England defiantly. The Brit ground his teeth before taking the gun away from Japan and holding it at him. "I will shoot you, then." No movement. His finger slowly pulled the trigger. Fear rose into the Italian's chest but he did not pull his eyes away. He remained as he was.

"Fine." The Brit's eyes narrowed. "Have it your way." The trigger pulled.

Nothing.

Italy let out his breath, surprised and… shell shocked. "I… It wasn't loaded?" He breathed, grateful he wasn't dead.

"I didn't give him anymore bullets," America explained, having relaxed after his outburst. He sat down on the couch arm, staring at the two other nations. "He'd waste all of them on Japan. Already wasted two."

The Italian turned to America. "Two? You mean that shot I heard in the elevator…?"

"Yup. We shot Japan twice. He needed to stay dead until we finished tying him up."

Japan laughed. "Oh, such a nice way to treat the host-"

"You were the one acting crazy!" China jumped in, the pans clattering into the sink and plates lined along the counter. "'Kill her! Kill her!' You had us worried sick, nincompoop!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "What the hell is going on?"

The Japanese man smiled despite the predicament he found himself in. "Such weakness you show, Yao. Have you gotten soft?"

"That's not the point!" China retorted. "You're hiding something from us and-" He stopped, looking at the Italian. An idea sparked into his eyes. "…Tell us what we want to know. Or else."

France scrambled to his feet, speaking up for the first time. "Yao, think about what you're doing."

"Or else what?" The host nation challenged, not yet understanding the threat. America, however, made his way over to Italy. The Italian shifted under the attention, feeling something more.

England turned to China, nodding at the idea before putting the gun down on the table. He leaned over, whispering into the captive's ear. "We will tell Feliciano."

Japan's eyes widened. "No…" He whispered. "No, you can't do that to him."

"Oh, but we can," the hushed murmuring replied. "This is a matter of international security and we will break some rules if we have to."

His jaw tightened. No… Italy would... The screams. He could hear them again. His burning red eyes were burned into his mind. The erratic behavior. Japan stared at his friend, breathing heavier. Italy stared back, confused.

…I cannot allow Feliciano to become what he hates most.

"I will tell you," he answered, eyes closed in shame. His head dropped, his chin resting on his chest. "I will tell you…"

A smile spread across England's face. Italy moved to stand but America sat him back down. His gaze held disbelief "Good. Now, why did you come to the meeting house?"

"I found someone there. A young nation."

The chair toppled over with a clatter. England gripping Japan's throat once more but not yet choking him. His eyes blazed in fury. "You're singing the same tune, Kiku."

His gaze did not shift at the accusation. "I am not lying. I found a nation. I hurt her. I took her to a hospital."

"You're lying!" He accused, squeezing the other's throat tighter. "A new nation would not just appear in your country and cause an international tremor! It would only affect you! Why aren't you screaming in agony? Huh?"

A hand gripped England's arm, pulling it away. "Stop choking him," China commanded. His face tightened at seeing Japan's pain but he did not mention that. " He can't talk if you choke him."

The Brit's blue eyes burned holes into China's before pulling away. He righted the chair. "What is different from this story than before?"

Japan leaned over, waiting until he could breathe properly before looking up and Italy. The Italian turned his head away, ashamed at the other. "…She's someone we know… At least, another version of her."

France stared at Japan. "Another version of… Who?"

"Natalia Arlofskaya."

Eyes stared at Japan, shell shocked. Italy's eyes closed, knowing that this was it. Belarus would be… "Arlofskaya?" America spoke, breaking the silence. "What do you mean another version of her?"

"She is a nation as well, the representation of Belarus," Japan explained. "But she can die. She does not have our regenerative abilities. I had to check her into a hospital, I can even give you the name of this hospital. But she can not revive after she dies." Japan's eyes settled on Italy, watching as the other shunned him silently. For a moment, the Italian returned his gaze to his friend before cringing and turning away again. "Ms. Arlofskaya comes from a separate dimension and-"

"Enough." America took off his glasses, shaking his head at this concept the captive was trying to sell to them. His forefinger and thumb rubbed into his temple, trying not to laugh. "This is ridiculous. Other dimensions? Nations that can die? This is absurd. Tell me you are joking. Please."

"He's not joking, Alfred." China went over to the kitchen, getting a knife and moving back to Japan. The other tensed, jaw tight as he watched the other approach him. The ropes fell away from his figure. The island nation examined his elder in surprise, honestly confused as to what was going on. "As you can see, none of us are laughing at this."

France nodded, not at all looking confused by the explanation. "Why should we be laughing? It makes sense."

"Wait, you… Believe him?" Italy asked, staring at each nation before settling onto England. "You believe him?"

England sighed and nodded, rubbing his head. "Oh, yes, I was suspecting this. After the whole 'kill her' fiasco. It certainly rings some bells…" He looked up at France. "Last time I believe it was… The Holy Roman Empire, correct?"

The Frenchman looked over at the Italian who's head was whizzing around to keep up with the speaker. Italy's eyes grew wide at the name. "What do you mean Holy Rome? Did this have something to do with his death?"

With a small sigh, France nodded. "The Holy Roman Empire… You were all quite young back then and it was a violent world so you wouldn't have noticed. But yes. It happened to him." His face tightened, pained at distant memories. "

China groaned, smacking the table before bringing Japan to his feet. "We have no time for this. We need to get to her. Now."

Japan pulled out of his grasp, facing China with fury. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you where she is?" He hissed. "You just killed me."

"Because," England responded, standing from his seat. "We know what's going on. And now, we need to protect her from herself."

Author's Note: WOW. It's been way too long. Anyway, summer has hit and I am quite busy with that to be honest. I'm surprised I even found the time to write this chapter. Sadly, our main character did not appear in this chapter. We did, in contrast, receive a lot of crucial backstory over what has happened and may happen. Hurrah.
I'm not sure if I'll be able to get back to the regular updating schedule. I believe I'll just post when I can… At least once a month? Maybe twice? I will get back on "Unwilling Matchmaker" when I have the time but I'm not as worried for that fanfic as I am for this one (considering that one has a scheduled plot and all). I'll get on it when I can but other than that, I'm still looking for Beta readers. If you're interested, please, feel free to message me or contact me on my main Tumblr page. Again, thanks for staying with me this far! Until the next chapter!