Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: For the record: I knew nobody on the plane that crashed last Thursday. I knew absolutely nobody. Not a single person of the 193 Dutch persons that were killed, and none of those other unfortunate people that were - probably - shot out of the air like a wild prey. I'm not an extremely social girl; I don't even know my entire family, let alone some random people that went on a vacation with that plane.
And yet, was this close to crying the eyes out of my head when I heard about the terrible disaster. I've been feeling so very bad the past few days, it's silly. I mean, there are so many people getting killed each and every day. Why should I feel so very bad for those people that didn't survive their flight to their vacation destination? Is it just because so many people that got killed were Dutch? I really don't think I want to know that answer. It makes me feel like a very sick, hypocrite person. It even makes me feel like I'm a wrong person. It's a very complicated feeling.
I've seen horrible pictures and read the most gruesome stories about the plane crash. I saw a photograph of a girl whose body was completely intact - safe for her face. I saw pictures of corpses lying around in between the plane wreck. I saw suitcases neatly lined up, almost in perfect condition, which was heart-breaking.
I'm amazed I still haven't cried yet. I really am.

A/n2: I had originally written more upbeat author's notes. I had also expected this chapter to end with a very important revelation – but thanks to me being too horrified and numbed by the happenings of Thursday and my natural instinct to ramble the ever-loving crap out of chapters, you'll have to wait for that very important revelation till next week. Sorry for that – I hope you understand. The same goes for the upbeat author's nothes - you'll have to wait a week longer for them. I'm so sorry.
Having all of that said, this is still a pretty important chapter. You'll maybe even discover something else if you pay attention.

A/n3: When I wrote the part about Lovi and Toni meeting up with the other nations, the plane crash hadn't happen yet. It feels weird to read that part now... but I promise you I wrote it before all of that plane awfulness happened.

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 59:

Eyes like that, like those of children, look at an eternal present without forgiveness.
Italo Calvino
(Italian journalist and novelist)

'…and so, while Papa Lovi and I are having a congress in Brussels, you three will stay with Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez – and their cute daughter Raquel! Isn't that nice! You are going to have such a wonderful time!~ Right, Lovi?'

Antonio ended his less-than-convincing speech with a hopeful glance my way, which I barely noticed, since I was busy watching the kids. Luisa, Alejo and Matteo were all glaring at us in a pretty terrifying way as we told them about… having to dump them at the neighbor's place tomorrow.

I mean, seriously. I'm not going to lie – if looks could kill, or at least heavily damage somebody to the point of wanting to kick yourself for being such a mean, absent father, I'd be either dead or kicking my own ass into oblivion already. Even though I knew that it actually would only be good for the kids. I mean, they'd interact with people!

…

And now I'm acting like they're damn aliens. God, no wonder my people skills are as impressive as those of a fucking bedbug.

'Can't we come, too?' Alejo eventually said, pursing his lips pleadingly – while still glaring, which was just as creepy as it sounded, or no, it was even creepier.

'No, Allie. It's not for kids. Plus, it's going to be very boring anyway – you wouldn't want to be there.' I smiled apologetically at him and pulled his blankets up a bit. Matteo and Luisa sat on his bed as well, but got the hint: Luisa instantly jumped off her brother's bed to retreat to her own, while Matteo reluctantly let himself get carried over to his own bed by Antonio.

'I'm angry, but I'm sads, but I'm gonna miss you,' I heard Matteo very business-likely say as his Spanish father tucked him into bed as well. Antonio chuckled and muttered something to him I didn't catch, since Luisa demanded all of my attention – by chucking a book to my head and almost hitting it, too!

'You evil, half-pint, Goddess of the War-wannabe, what the hell do you think you're doing!' I snapped at her – ignoring Alejo's giggles.

Luisa just huffed and growled and folded her arms over one another, her own signal that she wanted to have a word with me, stat.

Well, okay… ugh…

'Sleep well, kiddo,' I told Alejo and pecked his still-demonstratively pouted lips.

'Hmmmmmmrrrggggggrrrr,' Alejo mumbled and wanted to turn around and show me how huffy he and his back could be… but then Antonio came along and he immediately recovered his original position, so he could pout and glare at Antonio as well.

You could tell he wasn't really angry, since he'd had lifted up his bed and tossed it across the goddamn room if he was. Alejo probably was angry because he felt like he needed to be, but didn't quite understand why exactly. It was a frighteningly cute way of thinking.

But anyway, I walked over to Luisa's bed and crouched down next to her.

'Now, what did you wanted to tell me? Or did you just, I don't know, feel like attacking me with books?'

'You're stupid,' Luisa counter-attacked, frowning so very deeply I started to wonder if her eyebrows were going to sink into her forehead and stay there forever. 'You don't tell funny stories anymore. You only tell bad ones.'

I sighed and leaned my elbows on her mattress. 'Come on, baby, cut me some slack. You know Papa Lovi is having a tough time right now. Don't you?'

'Boo,' she replied, sticking her tongue out.

I snickered. 'Hey, let me promise you something, alright?'

'What,' she nagged.

'When Papa Toni and I return to pick you three dwarfs up, I'll tell you and the twins the most special and super-awesome story I've ever told anybody.'

Luisa was mildly interested and leaned forward – also very nonchalantly, of course.

'What story?'

'Uh-uh.' I shook my head and playfully booped her little nose. 'I'm not telling you yet, of course! It's a surprise!'

Her chubby kiddie-cheeks started to redden in excitement. 'A… a story 'bout the knight?'

'Nope.'

'Mommy Hulda?'

'Who? Oh – that well-lady? No.'

'SOMETHIN' – SOMETHIN' witf SPACE DICKS,' Matteo shrieked from his side of the room.

'Matteo!' Antonio gasped.

'Wolfie called me a dick once!' Alejo proudly said.

'WHAT,' Antonio gasped again.

'You mean… space ducks, right?' I asked Matteo's dark figure without paying attention to Antonio and Alejo's… whatever they were doing.

'Yea!' Matteo responded. 'Quack quack on the MOOOOOOOON! MIA NEEDZ TO PEE!'

'Your strange fascination with space-shit and plants is starting to disturb me, kid, but regardless of that – no, Teo, I'm not going to tell a story about dicks – I mean ducks – in space either.'

'Aww.'

'Just be patient!' I said this to both Luisa and Matteo, and I hope they realized that. 'I'll tell you the story as soon as I can. Okay?'

'Hm,' Luisa muttered, although she nodded.

'KAYYYYY,' Matteo shouted.

'So, are you going to sleep now?' I asked Luisa as I gently patted her hand, lying on top of the sheets.

She hesitated, but then softly uttered that she was 'waiting for Papa Toni, dammit'.

I smiled. 'You're such a cutie.'

'Dork.' She looked away from me, her face burning as usual.

'You don't want a kiss?' I asked her.

She rolled over again, raised herself up high enough for me to kiss her, and then turned over right away again, mumbling another half-meant profanity.

Now she was angry. If she wasn't angry, she wouldn't have given me the silent 'I-don't-even-wanna-look-at-you' –treatment. No, she'd just yell and snarl at me. A totally different approach than Alejo's – but ten times as effective. I got up from the floor with a very hollow feeling in my stomach.

But then I had to go to Matteo, who was sitting up in bed, facing the wrong direction with his arms wide open, rattling 'hugmehugmehugmeeheheheheheheeh!~' and my mind was eased again.

See, Matteo was angry. Was. But then Matteo's carefree brain decided that he liked space ducks and bringing bitchy cati-plants to the bathroom and oh, he also liked to be hugged by his fathers, so therefore, the anger needed to go – else he couldn't get at least one of his crazy wishes granted.

So I hugged Matteo and as he giggled and rubbed his face against my arms, I heard Alejo talking like a pirate to himself and Antonio successfully cheer up Luisa, and then the circle was round again. Or it was a full circle. Or… whatever, you get what I'm trying to say.

Anyway, in the end, we left the kids' bedroom with a fairly good feeling. And that's what was most important.

\0o0/

Antonio and I stayed up for a little while after we had put the kids in bed, but not for too long. We'd have a pretty long and probably exhausting day laying ahead of us, so after watching some TV and drinking a bit, we went to our bedroom as well.

We talked a bit about all the things that had happened today, and about our thoughts and stuff – for some reason, it was really tempting for us to just… blurt out all of our stress and worries once we laid down in bed – and then we kissed each other good night.

Which… turned into other kisses, which turned into another activity that just kissing, which was all very wonderful and nice and sweaty. I mean, I had a great time. Having sluggish sex while you didn't even really expect to have some sex at all was pretty awesome.

'What do you mean, you didn't expect it,' Antonio whispered lustfully to me as he pushed himself inside of me, 'you opened your legs for me so very fast it dazzled me – certainly not the reaction of somebody who didn't expect to have sex…'

I just gasped and hissed at him to shut the fuck up and hold on to me already.

\0o0/

The next morning, things went pretty fast.

We woke up fairly early, especially if you keep in mind we normally only pondered about leaving the bed when it was past nine, sometimes even past ten o'clock already. But instead of lying around, having some more sex and/or discussing what we should do today, as we most of the time did, we got up and left the bed right away.

'So anyway,' I said as I opened the wardrobe and rubbed my still-sensitive butt, 'should we dress up really nicely or just casually?'

Antonio – who had been about to put on something casual, of course – paused and thought about that question.

'Well, I love to see you walking around in a nice suit – it makes you even more handsome than you already are.'

'It does, is does,' I agreed, smirking proudly.

'But maybe it's too… I don't know, too flashy to put on something too serious. I don't think America wants us to look like we're going to participate to something very important, so maybe we should just wear something simple,' Antonio reasoned.

I nodded slowly, but steady. He was right. We didn't know what to expect, after all, and maybe it was best to keep a low profile, regardless of what exactly we were going to do or see in Brussels. You know – just to be safe.

So we put on some regular cloths, nothing too special but still very cool, since I am and always will be Italian. And Antonio was the lucky asshole to be married to me, so he had to look leg-humpingly good as well. And he did, he always does, that bastard. We slacked off a little since we were too busy complimenting and groping each other approvingly, but then I realized we should get the fuck moving already.

We went to the kids' bedroom, woke them up and dressed them into their favorite clothes, and after having a very speedy breakfast that consisted of a few slices of bread and some instant coffee that tasted like crap, we left the House. Yes, it really went that very fast – we just wanted the 'goodbye' to be over as soon as possible, so we could look forward to a 'we're back'.

'Do you have to bring Mia?' I sighed as I walked to the neighbors, holding both Alejo's and Matteo's hands.

Matteo looked at me as if I had asked him the most stupid question he had ever heard. 'Of courze, papa – Mia makes me not lonely.'

My face fell. 'Teo, you won't get lonely: your brother and sister will be there as well! You'll have tons of fun!'

'Yea, I've even thought up a new game,' Alejo said, grinning at his twin brother. 'Let's Water The Cactus!'

Matteo meeped and hugged Mia closer with his one arm, making the plant prick his face. 'No! Not "Leb's Waaver The Cactus"!'

'Allie,' I warningly said.

He shrugged. 'Just kidding.'

'Oh no, you're not going to get away with that that easily. You promise you behave yourself, young man. I don't want to hear Mrs. Sanchez say you did something bad when we get back!'

Alejo moped. 'Okay, okay…'

'Also, protect your brother and sister.' I hesitated. 'You know, in case that Raquel-girl starts teasing them.'

That instantly cleared Alejo's mood and he smiled broadly at me. 'Yea, leave it to me, Papa Lovi!'

I chuckled. 'I'll glady leave it to you, twerp.'

'Papa Lovi?' A soft, but stern stern voice made me look up and stare right at Luisa, who was dangling over Antonio's shoulder and gripped his shirt with unsure little hands. 'You still have my neckthingy?'

I blinked, turned suspiciously red when I remembered how weirdly ashamed I felt when I discovered last night that in the last few days, I had had sex two times while wearing my precious, innocent daughter's dogtag, and moved my head up and down convulsively.

'…yes.'

'Oh, okay.' Luisa simply said.

'You don't want it back?' I asked.

'No!' she snarled. 'You need it to come back, dammit!'

'Language, Luisa!' I clacked my tongue.

'Ah, well, I'm sure Papa Lovi takes very good care of it.' Antonio's big hand gently landed on Luisa's head and caressed it. 'Don't you worry about it, princess!~'

Luisa grumbled something, but she blushed and leaned her chin on Antonio's shoulder, so it couldn't have been very aggressive. I smiled. I knew she liked being patted and hugged. Who didn't, really?

Anyway, our cute little parade arrived at the neighbors' place within a couple of minutes and the kids got a very warm welcome from both adults – and even from Raquel, who grinned creepily at me and therefore probably would have a pretty good click with Alejo.

'Okay,' I told Mr. Sanchez while Mrs. Sanchez lowered herself to the floor to introduce herself to the three kids, 'I'm not sure when we're going to be back, but… I hope that's not a problem?'

'Not at all,' the friendly man assured us. 'It's a great honor to watch your and Mr. Fernandez' children. He helped me out a long time ago, you see – I almost fell off the ladder once, and if it hadn't been for Mr. Fernandez and his swift reaction… Yes, I still hold him in high regard because of that. Please take your time, your kids are in good hands!'

Antonio snickered. 'You know you can call me Antonio, Diego – I told you last time!'

Mr. Sanchez roared with laughter, which sounded kind of heavy and breathless – well, let's be honest, he was a heavy man. 'Nonsense, my friend! I will call you as I please, and Mr. Fernandez suits me just fine!'

We chit-chatted a little bit more, about the weather, the country, the more respectable positions gay people were getting these days – always an interesting and kind of uncomfortable topic to talk about when your rear was still aching from yesterday night's activities – and then it was time to go.

Although I feared that leaving the kids would be a bit difficult, it actually didn't take much of our time at all. Antonio and I hugged and kissed each of the kids one more time, told them we loved them and made them promise to be nice kids, and then we were off.

Nobody cried, got angry or sad, they just seemed to understand the situation. The last thing I saw was Raquel pulling both Alejo and Luisa to the garden, while Matteo had trapped Mrs. Sanchez in yet another intense conversation about the miracle that is Mia – and then I just knew everything was going to be alright.

We didn't have to leave them with a heavy heart. Thank God.

\0o0/

The trip to Belgium went incredibly well, I have to say.

Since both Antonio and I were at ease and comfortable, we actually had a great time driving to the country where Femke dwelled. Although I had wanted to drive, Antonio had insisted to take the wheel. He said he felt I should just take it easy and chill my ass. And yes, he meant that literally. It made me smack his head and laugh at the same time, dammit.

So we drove, and talked, and hummed to the music, and enjoyed the nice weather in both Spain and France, and before we knew it – I was just adjusting the radio to a better station when it happened – we crossed the border between France and Belgium.

I was surprised we had arrived in the country so damn timely. Sure, it still had been a very long and boring ride, but we were in a good mood and the sun was also shining in the more northern side of West Europe, so you didn't hear me complain. Or Antonio, for all that matters.

Everything went smoothly.

…

In fact, everything went so damn smoothly that a tiny, wary voice inside my head told me that this couldn't last forever. It was the silence before the storm, I somehow felt, and that made my happy feelings decrease drastically. Because that's how I fucking work, dammit: the second I felt bad stuff was going to happen, my body got all tense and neurotic.

I was hoping Antonio hadn't notice the change of atmosphere in the car as we followed the road signs saying "BRUSSEL/BRUXELLES", but all it took was one curious glance my way to instantly inform him about my state of mind. It was ridiculous. Cute, but… ridiculous nevertheless.

'What's on your mind?' he asked, softly squeezing my knee. 'Come on, out with it – I see you're quietly stressing out there.'

I groaned and shook my head. 'No no, it's nothing important. I'm just a bit anxious about what we're going to see. That's all.'

'You always were a worrywart,' Antonio chortled. 'Listen, sweetie – we're probably going to have a pretty funny experience.'

'Funny, you say?' I repeated him.

'Of course! It's America! Hunting for information in a strange building, probably while camouflaged as a soldier, or as a ninja or something! Do you have any idea how comical the idea and image of that alone sounds?'

I smiled weakly. 'Well, in a way, it does sound funny, yes…'

'Exactly.' He patted my knee some more. 'Everything's going to be alright, my love. Okay?'

'Alright,' I replied and breathed out. Yeah, it probably would be best to just think the best of this situation. I mean, what else could we possibly do?

Besides, we'd go and meet up with the others very soon, and I was almost sure that that was going to be a lot of fun. I wondered how they were doing, and whether they had just as many crazy, quirky stories about their children as we had. Oh, that would be nice! I'd love to brag about my demon children, no matter how weird and silly they were. Also, I'd want to know what that albino-freak Prussia or that fuckface France would say to that.

My smile grew a little. Yes, Antonio was right, again: everything was going to be alright!

\0o0/

When we arrived at the Congress Building we needed to be, I saw a small group of nations standing close by the entrance. Most of the time, many personifications just wandered around the parking lot and the building where the congress would be held whenever we got together, laughing and making lame jokes, so it was a reassuring and consulting sight to see.

Antonio managed to find a nice parking spot and we got out, approaching the small group of nations with friendly nods of the head and a bit of casual waving. I recognized the faces of the Netherlands, Finland, Canada, Russia, Hungary and Austria.

'Hi!' Antonio greeted the others as we blended into the group. 'Long time no see! How's everybody doing?'

I wasn't as forward as Antonio, of course, so I just stood beside him and frowned bashfully since we all of a sudden were the centre of attention, but as I stood there, I noticed that a couple of countries looked like they had lost all hope.

…

Lost all fucking hope.

It was really absurd to stare at the crushed faces of both Netherlands and Russia as Antonio happily talked with an equally cheerful Hungary, the two of them too oblivious to notice the depressing state of the others.

The eyes of the Netherlands had black bags underneath them. Not even gray – no, they were black, and they looked heavy. The Dutchman normally had a confident, upright posture, ready to mock anybody who wanted to ask him for a kind-hearted donation, but now… he didn't really stand, he wobbled, and his shoulders hung low. He had a thousand yard stare that you usually don't see with people other than veteran soldiers that had seen the most gruesome things while at war and his hair was messy and unkempt.

'God god,' I muttered, not even trying to hide my shock as I looked at the Dutchman, 'what the hell has happened to you?'

'He had all rights to do it, you know,' the Netherlands cryptically mumbled, eyeing me emotionlessly. 'I couldn't protect her, I couldn't even say I couldn't protect her – so of course he took her away from me. And Bas, too. I got it. I understood. But I still cried. I wonder why?'

'W-what?' I stammered.

'Ah, you should have done the same with Bel, you know?' Russia's unrealistically upbeat voice ripped through the air. 'The both of them always made those nice flowery crowns. I told Bel she probably couldn't make one out of sunflowers for me, but she grinned at me and told me I should buy her beer if she succeeded.'

Russia's story was even more confusing than Netherlands' story. Regardless, I tried to hide my bewilderment and did my best to keep the dialogue alive.

'So…' I hesitated, '…did she succeed?'

'Naturally.' Russia smiled at me, which sent scary shivers down my spine. 'Bel got a six-pack from me in return! She was so happy with it. She smiled so interestingly. I always asked myself if she smiled like that to all nice men, or if it was just for me. I'd have liked it if it was just for me.'

Then he looked up in the sky, as if he was musing about something, and stopped talking altogether.

My heart started speeding up its beating. This was disturbing – was I the only one here that found the condition of both the Netherlands and Russia disturbing? Why didn't anybody say something about them?

'They're in bad shape, aren't they,' Finland at that moment said to me, as if he had been waiting for his cue. 'I haven't heard most of their stories yet, but from what I could make out of their broken explanations so far is that Switzerland took Liechtenstein and their son away from the Netherlands, and rumor has it that Belgium's getting delirious from the chaos of it all. She only cries, sleeps and sits in a chair the whole day long, not saying a word, apparently…'

'God,' I could only utter.

'It's horrible, I know. And they're just the tip of the iceberg. I had no idea so many nations are having a hard time!' Finland continued.

'What do you mean with that – who are having a hard time?'

Finland looked at me with his bright, but worried eyes. 'Um, well… everybody, of course, but especially the countries that didn't show up.'

'You mean this is all?' I made a jerky gesture with my arms. 'Are we the only ones who are going to this secret conference?'

'Yes – it's not much, is it.' Finland sighed deeply and rubbed his neck. 'I came here by myself because Berwald didn't want to leave Olaf all by himself, but… but I don't see anybody else of us… you know, Scandinavia... Northern Europe…'

'It's not just Northern Europe.'

Hungary interrupted our talk with a stern, serious look in her eyes. Looks like she wasn't as oblivious as I thought.

'We are the only ones that felt good enough to actually show up today – the only ones that didn't run away or went to hide. France isn't here either, nor is Switzerland, Estonia, Belarus, Lithuania, Belgium, Poland, Romania, Greece… and all those other countries that aren't here, you get the picture. They all couldn't make it, didn't want to come or simply couldn't come because of their faltering health.'

Austria stood beside her and frowned worriedly. 'This is getting ridiculous, though. Just what on Earth is going on in Europe? I knew things were going bad, but just look at how things are right now. We are the only ones willing to watch America's live blog. While we all know the man has something important to show and tell us. Is all of this just because of the children? Are they the reason for all the distress?'

'Don't say that,' Antonio said, a bit alarmed. 'The kids didn't do anything wrong – they just appeared. You can't blame them for appearing. There are others to blame for that.'

'Are we to blame for that?' Canada, who later told me he was by himself since Prussia was sick, asked all of a sudden.

Antonio got a pale, sickening color on his face and wanted to answer him, but then the door of the big Congress Building was opened, very slowly, and a friendly young female employee with a subtle, French accent, told us in English that 'Monsieur Kirkland was waiting for us'.

'He's in Room 5.3, on the second floor,' she told us. 'He wanted to prepare the room first, so I hope you can forgive him for taking so long to call you.'

The (one, two…) eight of us looked at the woman as if she had just said the PPSS had invited us all on a nice fishing trip.

'England?' Canada was the first to stammer. 'Is Eng… I-I mean, Mr. Kirkland here? Are you sure, miss?'

The young woman seemed startled by our shocked responses at first, but she proved herself to be a professional by smiling nevertheless.

'Ah, right – Monsieur Kirkland told me you'd be surprised. Don't be concerned, please: he was asked to lead this meeting by Monsieur Jones, so everything will probably get more understandable once you meet up with him.'

Someone uttered a soft 'thank you' and the lady walked away again, leaving us all confused and flabbergasted.

I was pretty sure our heads were swarmed with questions – I knew mine was – but instead of turning to each other and asking ourselves out loud what the fucking hell was going on, we didn't speak a single word as we made our way into the building. I saw Hungary silently clutched Austria's hand and I automatically did the same thing the very second I felt Antonio's hand touching mine questioningly.

I – no, we weren't sure what we were going to see or hear, but I felt it was going to be big. Enormously big. Bigger than I could have ever imagined before.

I sure hoped I wasn't hurting Antonio's hand.

\0o0/

When our silent group of eight arrived at Room 5.3 and entered the large, white room, we saw England was indeed present, sitting at the head of a large, broad, white table, simultaneously typing on a laptop and fumbling around with a beamer that was projecting the huge, square image of England's desktop's background on the white wall.

There was a lot of white going on here, I noticed as the other nations and I randomly took our seats. It certainly made the room feel a lot cooler than it actually was. It terrified me, for some reason.

England didn't pay any attention to us at first. He was still busy finishing those last preparations, I suppose, since he looked like he was doing his best to end his furious typing as soon as he could. While the rest of the nations looked around the room in quiet amazement – the modern room was pretty beautiful, after all – I focused my gaze on England.

I didn't know how he had managed to pull it off, really, but he looked even worse than the Netherlands and Russia - combined. He had a full beard, for crying out loud. A typical 'I'm feeling so damn bad I don't even care about looking like a dirty hermit anymore' –beard. The same kind of beard Antonio had when I was away from him. But worse.

The beard made him look even more miserable than before. I mean, ever since the kids had come into our lives, the Englishman had looked like Fate and Karma itself had dropped a huge pile of shit on him. It was almost too painful to look at him, his drooping eyes, his long face, his shaking hands, his thin body…

God. I shuddered and gripped Antonio's hand below the table. He didn't respond much, except for sharing an encouraging smile with me. I didn't know why he had to give me such a smile, but I was happy to get it nevertheless.

We sat there in almost complete silence, safe for England's typing, for at least ten more minutes. Nobody dared to say anything. We all feared all kinds of things and wanted to know even more kinds of things – so we probably inwardly decided it was for the best to just keep quiet and wait for England to finish.

Eventually, the ray of light on the wall showed us a site with the words "SUPER SECRET LIVE BLOG Y'ALL USA USA USA" splattered all over it.

I had hoped at least one person would snort at that, but nobody did, and neither did I.

America couldn't fool us with his happy-go-lucky-attitude anymore. He was going to do something very dangerous, and no matter what would happen, we'd sit here and be scared for him.

That was the least cowards like us could do for him, right?

'As you all can see,' England all of a sudden started talking (in a surprisingly normal, steady voice) as he raised up from his chair and pointed at a little counter in the corner of the beamer-light, 'in about five minutes, America will start his horrid live blog. He's going to break in the headquarters of the PPSS, as you all no doubt know, and he's therefore one of the biggest and most utterly daft buffoons I have ever known in history.'

'Mind your words!' Hungary just as unexpectedly nagged back at him. 'At least he tries to find us answers! The only thing you do is looking more unattractive each and every time we see you – and that's about it!'

'He's bloody ignorant to want to undertake something like this!' England snarled, staring at her furiously. 'He's always been like this, always wanting to attract attention in the most despicable kind of way! Always shouting! Always making people look at him! He'll be fucking arrested before he's even reached the bloody front door!'

'No he won't!' the normally fairly soft-spoken Finland loudly said. 'You're the ignorant one here, England! Just as ignorant as those PPSS-people! You underestimate America and think he's just a weirdo that nobody should pay attention to – and that's exactly why he's been able to keep us all informed about the PPSS and everything that has got something to do with this organization!'

'Maybe so!' England said as he leaned his hands on the table. 'But be honest with me, Finland – what good did that information do for you? For Hungary? For the Netherlands and Russia, for God's sake? For the rest of the continent that's not even here, damn it all—'

'Like I care. Like WE care,' the Netherlands sneered, as if somebody had woke him up. 'I rather go down while knowing something's terrible is going on that being caught by surprise and see everything I worked for so hard slip through my fingers without even knowing why.'

'I agree,' Russia nodded. 'Ignorance isn't bliss. Not at all.'

'Also, England, may I ask,' Austria said, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully, 'why did America pick you, the most skeptical being on this planet and the one that keeps most of this situation's secrets all to himself,to lead this secret meeting? You didn't do something to him, did you?'

'What in the blazes are you implying?' England growled, his nails scratching the surface of the table.

'You know what I'm implying,' Austria calmly said.

'He asked me! And I decided to answer his request! That's all, you four-eyed wretch!' England pounded a fist on the table. 'That's-ALL! I bloody swear it is!'

'Oh yes, and we all know how valuable your "I swear"s are.' Canada narrowed his eyes at him. 'You've been lying to us all along. You know exactly what's going on, don't you? Right from the start. You knew.'

England's fury reverted into despair and guilt, if only for a little while. 'Matthew, I—'

'Please don't talk to me.' Canada looked away from him. His hands were lying on the table, leaving damp, uneven, sweaty prints of his instable hands on it as soon as he'd lift them up. That's why he didn't.

'Is…' Antonio muttered so very softly I could barely hear him, '…is that true? We all have speculated and thought about it, but… is it actually true? You have always known what the reason behind the kids' appearance is – the real reason?'

England pursed his lips together, as if he wanted to make them disappear.

'Was it worth it?' I heard myself ask. 'Whatever you got in return for whatever you did.'

England now opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it.

Russia snorted, disgusted. 'You never wanted to have kids – you just wanted more power over us. Like you used to have.'

'No!' England snapped at him. 'That's not true! I—'

But at that moment, the counter on the white wall reached zero and America's huge, grinning face appeared.