Hey, again! I wanna dedicate this next chapter to my friend Taylor because she just started reading this story 3 3 And, once again, I have forgotten to tell you what the song for last chapter was! GAH! The song is 'What The Hell' by Avril Lavigne because of the mental toll Bianca is starting to take on Matthew.

I sighed dreamily as I drifted over and back across the thin line seperating reality and my rare dream. "Sweet... You really got this AK for me...? You... Are... So... Fucking... Cute... Oh, Matthew..." Continuing my mindless ramblings, I felt my arms wrap around something solid... Yet squishy...?

"What the actual fuck- Who the...?" I felt around, my eyes still closed. A nose... Mouth... Eyes...? Crap. A rapist! I removed my arms distractedly, beginning a process my father taught when found in the event that you wake up with someone you didn't go to sleep with. Turning on my side and breathing heavily, I groped for my Revolver.

Finally locating it, in one swift move, I gripped it tightly and pressed it to the offender's temple. "Who are you and why are you here, bastard?" I whispered hurriedly. "Answer me or I blow your brains out. Answer me, now, filthy swine pervert!" By then, I had starddled my subject and opened my eyes.

I groaned in anger. I knew that dirty blonde hair... That Canadian jackass! "CANADA!" I screamed as I discarded my gun after setting it to safety. "YOU CANIVING MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE!?"

I felt him tremble under me as he shielded his face from my wild blows to every inch of his body I could reach. "I w-was sleeping!" he whimpered. "P-Please don't hurt me! P-Please!" My eyes turned bright green like they always did when I was angry. "WELL I WAS TOO, Y'KNOW, RIGHT BEFORE YOU FUCKING SCARED THE HELL OUTTA ME!" I shouted through gritted teeth.

My face a bright crimson as my yells died down, my eyes slowly retuning to their original sapphire blue. I frowned and glared down on Canada. Okay. Just breath, Bianca. Hear his part of the story before you murder. You can't go back to therapy... "Look, just tell me what the fu- hell happened and no one gets hurt," I said as patiently as I could.

"Uh... Okay," Canada said shakily. "But... Um, could you please get off me? You're sitting on my stomach, eh." I felt my face burn with embaressment. Well, who's the rapist now? In record speed, I moved to the opposite side of the bed.

"Proceed," I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I've decided that I'll hear your side of the story. Choose your words wisely. If I don't hear, what I want to hear, you. Will. Die." I ran my hands through my hair, pulling it into a low ponytail and letting it fall over my shoulder.

Canada sat up and rubbed his head, as if wary of the fact he was still here. "Well, darn, I don't really remember much," he said in that stupid(but terribly cute) whisper of his. I shot him a death glare, urging him to go on. "O-Okay, well let's see... I was sleeping... Then Kumakachi pushed me out of bed! And I came down here, 'cause I forgot you were here."

I drew a poker face to hide my weakness to him and said,"Fine. It's acceptable. But one question: Who's Kumakachi?" Canada shrugged,"Just my polar bear. He never remembers my name though, most people don't." I felt a spark of interest when I heard polar bear. I had a polar bear. She was my best friend.

"I've got a polar bear back home," I said as I drew circles on my thigh with my unusually long nails. "In Alaska. Her name's Momma." Suddenly, my face fell again, remembering that I never got the chance to say goodbye to her. To scratch that special place behind her ear and make her purr with excitement. I missed Alaska.

I shook my head. I'd be there again someday. Somehow. "Why don't you go make me some breakfast? You got nothing better to do," I demanded lightly. "I-I'll be down in a second."

I bounded down the stairs, fanning myself. How hot was it in here? I walked shuggishly to the kitchen where Canada was standing in front of the stove, flipping these flat things in a pan. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. "Hey, Canada," I called.

He looked my way and smiled slightly. "You're just in time," he stated placing two of the flat things on a plate and handing it to me. "Can't forget the maple syrup!" He drizzled some of this thick stuff on them. "What on God's green earth is this?" I asked, a hint of aggrivation sprinkling my voice.

"Pancakes and maple syrup," Matt said, excitedly. I stared at him.

"I hate these."

"Have you even tried them?"

"No, but they look- What the-!" Before I knew it, he was stuffing a small portion of pancake in my mouth. "What was that for, you ass-" I raged. But then I stopped. What the hell was this beautiful concoction that my dear friend Canada had made? Was he a cooking god? It was a pancake, a God-sent delicacy.

I glared at him. "Well, stop staring at me like a complete durak!" I said, my mouth full. "Make me more of these... Pancakes!"

"So," Canada asked me later that day. "D'you know who you're supposed to find or whatever?" I thought about it for a second. Russia did always threaten to send me to this guy... He sounded really annoying. I didn't know. I was still high on pancakes.

"Well," I answered thoughtfully. "There's this America guy... Blonde, obnoxious, blue eyes... Sorta looks like you? Know him?" Matthew cringed. "I-I might..."

"Well, he sounds like a complete dick y'know... For once I finally understand why Russia wants to crush him."

"He can be kind of... Strange... And obnoxious... Sometimes..."

"I don't really have any plans to find him or anything. I think I'll be fine, though. Maybe I can go back to being an independent nation again. I missed that."

"That's nice..."

"You seem tense. Anything bothering you?"

"Yeah... America's my brother..."