He didn't remember anything, of course. It had been after his fifth bottle of vodka that he made the call. Ivan scrolled to Canada's name, highlighting it. He sighed, and pressed it, effectively placing the call to the other Country. It was only after he was listening to the second ring from the other end that he realized that there was nearly a ten hour difference between the two.

Oh, well. He'd leave a voice mail if he had to.

"Hello?"

"Comrade Matvey? I was wondering, when I called you earlier, what did I say?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment, but Ivan waited patiently. No doubt Canada had just woken up and needed time to think.

"If I'm remembering this correctly, and I think I am, you had forgotten what you had called me about and had asked me why I am always being ignored."

Ivan nodded silently into the phone. "I see. I am sorry to have bothered you at such a late hour," he started, knowing that it was probably early morning where Canada was.

"It was no bother." After formal good-byes, Ivan ended the call and sat back on his couch, toast and coffee long forgotten. That was next to useless information, but information none the less. He sighed and made his way into the kitchen to push his uneaten breakfast in the garbage before heading to his study. There was no work, really, but he could scrounge something up to ease his ever present boredom.

As he sat down, he noticed the note he had apparently written to himself the night before. He smirked.


Matthew stretched his arm out to put his phone back on the bedside table. He didn't care what time it was right then. It was dark out, and his boss wasn't coming to visit until that afternoon. He had several hours to become presentable, and he knew that a visit to the store was in order, if only to get caffeine pills and coffee.

He pushed lanky blonde hair out of his face, scratching at his scalp. The chances of his boss actually remembering that he was supposed to see the Country were pretty good; he usually forgot the first time but not the second. The first meeting was to have taken place last Wednesday, and when Matthew had called to remind him about the meeting, his boss had rescheduled for this Wednesday.

He had, unfortunately, spent the week doing little more than moping and working. His eating schedule had become a mess, and eventually he stopped and just took supplements and drinking water. Matthew knew it was unhealthy, but surely it was more healthy that praying to the porcelain god every few hours.

He would take food every now and then, usually crackers or a spoonful of peanut butter. The food in his fridge had gone bad, and in a fit of obsessive cleaning he had thrown it all out. He hadn't been grocery shopping for a while.

Matthew's thought process was interrupted by his stomach growling. He sighed and got out of bed, careful not to disturb the polar bear.

The tile of his kitchen was cold on his bare feet, but he barely felt it in his bleary state. Opening the fridge, he was greeted by a dozen eggs that hadn't gone bad, and a loaf of stale bread. He shrugged and pulled them out.

As he was making a fried egg sandwich, he stared out the window into the predawn light. The sun wouldn't be up for a couple of hours yet, but the false sunlight was comforting in a way. For a moment, all Matthew wanted to do was soak in the sight of his sleeping country. His toast popped and he jumped at the sound, loud in the silence of his house.

Spooning the egg onto the toast, he leaned against the counter on his elbow and started eating.

And, oh God, it was delicious. His eyes closed involuntarily as the first food he ate in days hit his tongue and filled his belly. Warmth radiated out, and he reveled in it. After a few more bites, he found himself comfortably full. He grabbed a glass of water to wash it down, and took the remaining food to his room, for Kumajirou.

Human food was normally not good for him, but he needed a treat for having to deal with a sick and irritable owner, Matthew figured. With the act justified, he proceeded to wake his friend.

"Kurujuma," he whispered, poking the bear with his free hand. "I have a surprise for you."

"Who are you?" the animal said blearily, not bothering to open his eyes.

"I'm Canada, the one who gives treats." His eyes opened at that, and Kumajirou yawned as he took in the sight of Matthew holding most of an open-faced egg sandwich.

"Gimme," he demanded, holding out a paw. Matthew giggled and placed the food on the floor before depositing the bear next to it. Glancing at the clock next to his bed, he decided to get ready for the day, knowing it was going to be long.


Several hours later, he regretted eating the food. Matthew, in his light blue suit, sat in between his boss and his bear at the desk in his office. He was watching an advertisement in PowerPoint for smuggling on the Canadian/American borders. Compared to the illness that gripped him, this was nothing more than a niggling itch, one that was easily fixed. He'd talk to Alfred and see about setting up a stricter border control or something.

He was extremely dizzy, as well. This was a relatively new symptom. He usually only felt this way after he had medicated himself to sleep or he had gone through a particularly rough patch with this mysterious sickness. Matthew swallowed and tried to concentrate on the slides on the computer in front of him.

The obnoxiously bright colors were giving him a headache, and sweat beaded at his hairline. He shoved his glasses up his nose, surreptitiously wiping his forehead. The next three minutes were sheer torture, easily the longest few minutes of his life.

"Excuse me for a moment, would you?" he asked softly. He had to repeat himself before his boss heard him and was excused. He grabbed Kumajirou and walked calmly out of his office and making his way into his room. Dropping the bear off on his bed, he made his way to the attached bathroom and evicted the food in his stomach.

Tears squeezed their way out of his eyes, and he placed his glasses on the counter so that he could wipe them.

Falling apart like a baby isn't going to fix anything! he told himself. He flushed and brushed his teeth, getting the foul taste out of his mouth. If anything, it's making it worse. This is surely a bug of some sort. It will go away. Reassured and feeling better, he left the bathroom.

Kumajirou was asleep, so he went back to the office by himself.

"Everything all right?" his boss asked. The man was older, with salt-and-pepper hair. He was thin as a rail and always dressed impeccably.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Harper. Kumasa was just tired and needed to rest."

The explanation (read "lie") taken, the two talked the rest of the afternoon about ways to improve the country's economy. It was a long, grueling process, and Matthew was afraid that he zoned out for some of it. It was nothing that he hadn't heard before, and he wasn't too worried about it.

That evening, Harper expressed his concern for the personification of Canada.

"Are you feeling all right? You look a bit pale, if I may say so." The Prime Minister looked him over in concern. "You've lost quite a bit of weight, as well."

"I'm fine!" Matthew smiled. "Just the smuggling getting to me, I'll bet. I feel itchy all over from that."

"I see. Well, if you do need anything, you let me know, would you?"

"Of course." After seeing his boss off, he sighed and shut the front door, sliding down it and resting his head on his up-drawn knees. Maybe sleep would take him in its sweet embrace.

And with that thought, he drifted off.


A knock at the door caused Ivan to growl in annoyance. He had finally found something to do (looking through charity proposals) and he just had to be interrupted. He debated ignoring it, but they knocked again, and it was pretty cold out. He couldn't let them, whoever "they" are, freeze out there.

He stomped down the stairs to the front door, opening it to reveal...nothing. Cold wind wormed its way through his coat, and he shivered as he looked dumbly out at the landscape.

He was definitely working too hard if he was imagining someone at his door. He sighed and shut the door. Shaking off the feeling that he was going crazy, he made a detour to his kitchen for a sandwich and went back to his study. He sat down once more, and bit into the bread and meat.

The screen was blurring, the letters of proposals nigh on unreadable. Ivan shut the screen off and made his way to his living room. He hoped against hope that there was a good movie on, one not made by that damn American. Finding one, he settled down to watch when the back of his neck prickled.

Without outwardly showing any tension, he slowly looked around the room. He was painfully aware of the area behind his couch, an open space that was now doused in darkness. With a groan, he stood and turned to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the living room. He glanced around stealthily, but saw nothing. His unease grew.

He made his way upstairs, listening intently. Nothing. But he didn't make it through the various wars ignoring his instincts.

Though he was tense, his body language didn't show it. He intentionally relaxed his shoulders, and kept his face clear of all emotions. His hands were not clenched, and he walked normaly. He went to the bathroom, and saw nothing. Ivan brushed his teeth and left. He glanced in the various guest rooms, and found nothing. He resisted the urge to curse, because now he had a pretty good idea about who was in his house.

Food forgotten, the Russian went back downstairs and turned the television off. He all but ran to his room, praying he would make it in time. He didn't know where she was, but he as he broke into a run to climb the steps, it was as if the hounds of hell were chasing him.

He slammed and locked his bedroom door not a second too soon. He watched in horror as the doorknob rattled. Backing away, he dragged his bed so that it was parallel to the door and tipped it up on its side, paralyzing fear eating through him. He sat behind the upturned bed, listening to the scratches that had begun to sound from his door.

"Brother, come out, da?" Natalia asked, dragging her nails down the rough wood. "That game of hide and seek wasn't very fun." He remained silent and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Come, brother. Let us marry! I still want to be one with Russia! In more than one way," she continued suggestively. Ivan shivered in fear, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.

There was silence for a few moments, and Ivan started to relax. He crept his way to his door, listening intently. Hoping against hope that she had given up, he resisted the urge to open the door for fear she was still on the other side of it, waiting him out. He jumped when he heard something clank against his window.

The top rungs of a ladder were rested against the sill, and he ran to his window to look down. Sure enough, his sister was climbing up.

"Brother! It is cold out here! Help me warm up!" She cackled at her innuendo.

Ivan ran to his door, unlocked it and ran downstairs. He waited at the front door, car keys in hand, until he heard his sister's feet land in the house. Quietly, quietly, he opened the door and snuck around the house to where the ladder was leaning against the wall. Carefully, so as not to alert his sister, who was calling his name, he laid the ladder on the ground and then sprinted to the garage, where his jeep was parked.

It roared to life, and he slipped it into gear. Ivan floored it, up shifting smoothly until he could go no faster. The light flipped on in the living room, and he saw his sister throw open the front door, the light framing her.

Looks like he was sleeping in a hotel room for a couple weeks. Ivan sighed and wished he could go back in time to be bored once more. It was much more preferable.


A.N. Thank you for all the follows and favorites! And thank you larissita for your reviews! I love them!

Please, if you enjoyed this chapter, let me know in a review. I am truly appreciative of the follows and favorites, and they make my day, but I need feedback to improve my writing so I can present better chapters!

Also, I just realized that I haven't disclaimed "Hetalia" at all. So I'm doing it now! I do not now, nor have I ever, owned "Hetalia". This goes for all future and past chapters. Thank you for reading, and don't forget to review!