Sorry about the wait. I lost the original Chapter 3, so I had to completely rewrite it.

I'm aware they're a bit out of character. Sorry, guys ^^;; I tried my best.

Chapter 3: Illnesses and Hospitals

Alfred woke to the shrill cries of the alarm clock. He groaned and slammed his hand on it, trying to shut it up. Three had been three months since he had woken up in bed next to Russia, naked, with a hangover. Three months since he had gotten back his memories, revealing Russia harbored feelings for him. And it had been for three months that Alfred had been confused. He wasn't sure about how he felt.

Alfred looked up at the clock. Broken. Great. Now he'd have to buy another. Pulling his cellphone off the dresser, he suddenly remembered that there was a meeting today. He flipped open the cell phone. 4:07 pm. He was four hours late. England would have his head for this. He got ready as quickly as he could. Maybe he could grab a burger or two on the way.

The door slammed open to reveal a grinning America.

"Your hero has arrived!" All eyes turned to focus on him, most annoyed, a few amused.

"America, you git! Your late!" Alfred kept his grin.

"Better late than never, right Iggy?" England scowled at the nickname.

Alfred looked around for a seat, and froze when he noticed the only empty seat was next to Russia. The larger nation was staring at him with that smile that sent chills down his spine. He wasn't sure what thoughts were hiding behind those violet eyes. They were devoid of any emotion. Alfred looked around, not wanting to sit next to him.

"So, who wants to lend the hero their seat? Hey China, what about you? I'll pay you money later if you do."

England stood up, slamming his hands on the table in annoyance.
" Bloody Hell, Alfred! There's a perfectly good seat right next to Russia, so it down in it and shit your mouth!"
Alfred frowned, and quietly sat down in the seat. Whoa, what the hell? He remained quiet, and could swear that Russia was emitting a strange sound. One that sounded like KolKolKol, or something like that. Yeah, creepy. He scooted his chair away from the larger nation.

It was finally his turn to present his information- which was a totally awesome plan on how to raise his economy by making super cows to create super burgers, something like that. He got up in front of the room, a burger in his right hand. England just shook his head in annoyance, probably due to the difficulty of having to understand the younger nation speak while eating at the same time. Not Alfred's fault he missed breakfast...Well, maybe it was, but hey. He was the land of the free. If he wanted to eat a burger, he could. After all, who would deny the hero a burger?

Alfred took a bite of his burger, then went still. A second passed, and he took off for the bathroom, burger abandoned on the carpeted flood. He gagged, then began to hack up the previous night's dinner into the toilet.

A hand rubbed his back, as if to bring him comfort. After roughly five minutes of gagging and barfing up his entire meals from yesterday, his stomach was satisfied. Alfred's body was shaking, and he felt weak.

"You are sick, Да?" Alfred turned his head to see Russia, his hand still resting on his back. Alfred felt too tired to respond, or even push away the hand. Russia grabbed some toilet paper and wiped Alfred's face so that the remains from his stomach were cleaned away. He carefully picked Alfred up.

Alfred's brain seemed to register what was going on now, and he struggled, trying to push away from the larger nation.

"Let go! Put me down, commie!" Russia's grip only grew tighter. It was bad enough he was being carried bridal style, but he soon realized that he was being carried into the meeting room. This would kill him from embarrassment. He did the only thing that might save him from the humiliation. He closed his eyes, went completely limp, and played possum.

"I will be taking America home now." Russia turned and walked out the door. Upon hearing it close, Alfred ended his act.

"What the hell was that? I'm fine!" Russia raised an eyebrow.

"In my home, throwing does not count as a sign of good health, Подсолнечник." Alfred frowned when he was placed in a car that was clearly not his faithful pickup truck-Hey, don't laugh. That thing was sturdy. A tank couldn't bring it down.

"Come on! At least let me drive my truck!"

"I think not, Amerika. You will be driven to the hospital. We must see what is wrong with you. I will get somebody to drive your truck home, Да?" Alfred glared out the window silently. Apparently he didn't have a say in this. Russia was talking into his own cellphone in Russian, so most likely somebody already had his precious truck. He'd have to clean out the commie germs later. He leaned against the window, watching the scenery go by.

Next thing he knew, he was woken by Russia picking him up out of the car. What was he, a kid? Not to say he was complaining. He felt way too tired to walk, so he just rested his head on Russia's shoulder and rested. Sometime while in the waiting room, he had fallen asleep again.

"Дорогой , wake up." Alfred opened his eyes with a groan, and noticed a middle-age man in a white coat standing in front of him next to Russia. A doctor.

"Mr. Braginski tells me that you are sick today. So tell me, what seems to be the problem?"

"I threw up earlier. I'm fine now. I don't even feel sick anymore," Alfred replied honestly. The doctor nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard.

"Well, have you had any strange symptoms lately?" Alfred thought back. The entire month, in fact, had been strange.
"I throw up in the mornings, but feel completely fine later. And today I didn't throw up until I bit my burger, but that doesn't make sense. Burgers are my favorite food." The doctor nodded, and got a urine sample and left the room.

Alfred sat in the room in boredom, eyes scanning over every poster on the wall. He must have read every poster at least twenty times when the doctor walked back in, looking very confused.

"Mr. Jones, we've done the tests multiple times. I need you to answer one question for me. Have you had any sexual relations with anyone in the past nine weeks?"

Alfred nodded slowly, worried. Did Ivan give him an STD?

"Well, Mr. Jones...There's nothing more I can do but congratulate you. It seems you are pregnant."

Alfred saw the ceiling, then black.