A/N: Chapter four, things begin to heat up. It might be a little while before I post the next chapter, I have started many other fanfictions and I'm trying to finish them all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or an ice rink in my backyard

Canada watched as Russia skated around the rink, smirking at Alfred, who just glared back, obviously stung by his loss of 4-2. Matthew trailed behind the group as they skated off the ice, laughing amongst themselves. Not even hockey could lift the glumness he felt about this morning. Even when putting their minds to it, no nation can seem to remember him for more than 24 hours.

'They did remember me the other day. They had cared enough to search for me when I didn't want them to. That has to count for something, right?' he attempted to assuage himself, his spirits brightening a little. 'But it took me attempting to kill myself for them to care.' Bitterness crashed down, destroying any hope he had mustered. Only when it was nearly too late was he noticed. His invisibleness being confirmed was harder to swallow then Canada cared to admit.

He felt someone nudge his shoulder. He looked up to see his brother standing beside him.

"You ok? That commie didn't get you hard, did he?" Alfred asked, staring at him. The worry was evident on his face.

"Yeah, I'll be ok," Canada responded, looking back at him, trying to smile. America looked a little relived now.

"Well, we should get going." he skated off the rink. Matthew was about to follow when heard a noise. He paled when he saw the ice cracking underneath.

"Mattie?" He looked back to shore, to see his twin looking at him, confused.

"Al, the ice..." Matthew trailed off and pointed with trembling fingers at the splinters beneath his feet. The colour drained from his southern neighbors face.

"Don't move, I'm coming!" Alfred called, taking a step onto the ice. Matthew heard the ice crack under his brother's weight and he stepped off, eyes widening. Panic started to rise from Matthew's stomach. Alfred looked back at him and Matthew saw he was panicking too. He just had time to look back at Alfred, violet eyes pleading before the ice gave way and he tumbled into the murky water.

Canada gasped as the cold pierced his body and he sank deeper down. He tried to swim back up but his clothes prevented him from getting very far. He was glad he hadn't dug the trench deep, and soon he felt the bottom. He felt his lungs scream for air and he pushed off of the ground, arms desperately trying to propel his deadweight forward.

Surfacing, he coughed violently and clutched onto the ice shelf for dear life. His arms felt sluggish; they had hardly any strength within them. The frigid water left him gasping for breath and his tentative grasp began to slip. Horror swelled inside, but he couldn't scream; all that he emitted was a faint whimper.

There were screams but they all sounded garbled and Matthew slipped beneath the water again. He was sinking fast. His numb fingers fumbled with his heavy equipment. He managed to cast off his shoulder and shin pads before he hit the bottom once again, lungs on fire.

The second attempt for the surface sapped his strength, even without the weight dragging him down. His vision began to dim and narrow, and he was vaguely aware he had stopped moving his arms and legs. Time seemed to slow as he allowed himself to be pulled downward, the cold water caressing away his survival instinct.

'Maybe, this is the best way. A peaceful death, that's all I wanted…'

Two strong arms were suddenly hauling him upwards just as his lungs gave out. Heaving in beautiful oxygen, he squeezed his eyes shut. His whole body felt as though thousands of knives were stabbing him.

"Mattie! Mattie! Oh God, is he okay?!"

"We have to get him to the house!" He was being lifted up, soft fabric tickling his nose. He opened his eyes to see a pink scarf obscuring his vision.

"Cold," he whimpered, dizziness rocking his senses. The arms carrying him shifted him closer so that he was pressed against a warm chest.

"Da Matvey, you were under for a long time. We must get you warm. Stop squirming." There was no response as his exhausted body finally collapsed and he gave into the blissful darkness.

1

Cuba was sitting on Canada's couch, twisting his fingers together. Beside him, Russia's face was unusually sombre, head tilted slightly to the side as he listened to the hushed voices of America and Prussia tending to Matthew. They sat in uncomfortable silence, choosing to lose themselves in their own thoughts. Memories of the first time he met the soft-spoken nation swam before him, twisting his stomach with guilt.

'Cuba walked down the street, furious. The meeting had been another failure, and it was all thanks to that stupid American. Cuba shook his head; he couldn't understand how one person could be such an idiot. As he walked towards his hotel, he saw a familiar blonde head.

"Humph, I'll teach the American a lesson!" he growled, clenching his fists and stalking towards him. "America" turned, looking back at him. The blonde paled, and quickly smiled nervously. "H-hello Cuba, are you looking for something?" he greeted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cuba stopped and stared at him. He looked like America, but this one was different. His eyes were a soft violet while the American's were blue. He had a little curl on his head and America had that annoying little "Nantucket". Also, this man had a polar bear. Everything about him was polite and kind. Who the hell was he? The man's smile dropped into a frown.

"You don't remember me, do you? Even after all those times you beat me up." Cuba furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember. The man sighed, and looked defeated. "I'm Canada."

Cuba did remember seeing Canada at the meetings, but rarely. America did mention he had a twin brother, but he had never believed anything that came out of his mouth. Perhaps the arrogant bastard had been telling the truth.

"You're America's brother," he snarled, folding his arms and glaring down at Canada. The nation looked fearfully up at him.

"Y-yes I am," he squeaked, trying to back away. Cuba's glare softened. If he was anything like his loud mouthed brother, he would be fighting back.

"You seem… different." Canada sighed in relief and smiled up at him.

"Yeah, but we get confused a lot." He shrugged, a bitter smile darkening his features before it vanished. "But I am different! So, please don't beat me up anymore!" Cuba ran his fingers through his hair, feeling sheepish. Before he could apologize, the polar bear tugged on Canada's pant leg.

"Hungry," he whined, staring up at them.

"Yes yes, Kumachaki, here's some fish." He bent down and tossed some salmon to the bear, who gulped it down hungrily. He turned his violet gaze on him now. "What hotel are you staying at? It's getting a little late."

"The one just up the road," he replied, pointing in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, that's where I'm staying to. Would you like to walk with me there?" the shy nation asked.

Normally, Cuba would decline. After all, he was Americas 'twin'. Still, he seemed nice. Shrugging, he agreed and the two walked off. Later, he found out that he shared his love of ice cream, and he made sure to remember to give him some next time he saw him.'

He sighed to himself. He wished that had been the last case of mistaken identity, but no matter how many times he hung out with him; he never failed to let his rage get the better of him. Even though he considered Canada to be one of his best friends, he still failed him. Every day.

America and Prussia came into the room, followed by Canada. He looked better now, his lips had regained their natural color and he wasn't coughing anymore. He sat on the couch across from him, sipping a steaming mug.

"Matvey is feeling better, da?" Russia asked, his child-like smile returning.

"Yeah, I've fallen in the ice before." He gave a small smile as he sipped his drink slowly.

"But never like that. You were in there for a long time." Cuba stated. He had been very surprised that the boy hadn't caught hypothermia.

"I don't know what caused it to melt." Matthew said, looking around uncertainly.

"It is summer, maybe the heat melted it?" Alfred suggested.

"Impossible, the thermostat keeps it cold enough to skate on all year round. I've never had it melt completely like that before." Matthew said, taking another sip.

"Maybe someone touched thermostat?" Russia offered.

"But who?"

Cuba thought carefully, the only one who had left during the break was America. It must have been him. "America was the only one who left," He stated, glaring at the obnoxious American.

"It wasn't me!" He shouted, crossing his arms.

"Look it doesn't matter. No one got hurt. I'll take a look at it and it will be good as new." Matthew said, dispelling another argument. "If its ok, I really don't want to go out again, I'd rather stay home."

"Alright Mattie, there's probably fun things to do here." America said, clapping his hands together. His eyes cast around the room, seeking out something exciting to do. "How about a scary movie!" Prussia snorted.

"So we can all hold you as you cry like a little bitch? No thanks." Red eyes glanced over to Canada, not missing the way he was gazing listlessly into his hot chocolate. "I think we all could do with a laugh. It is the best medicine after all, right Vögelchen? He gently punched Matthew's shoulder. The latter merely sighed and gave a non-committal shrug.

Cuba was struck with a sudden inspiration to cheer his friend up. This never failed! Leaping off the couch, he ran to the kitchen, yanking open the freezer and grinning when he was met with success.

"Hey, look what I've got!" he announced, coming back into the room balancing a large bowl in two hands. Placing it in Canada's lap, he waited for the timid nation's face to brighten. He had done the works to the Heavenly Hash ice cream, decorating it with mounds of chocolate syrup and sprinkles to boot; Canada's favourite.

But there were no smiles to break the storm clouds that had permanently fixated themselves on the blonde. Canada picked up the spoon and set it back down again, before putting the bowl on the table wordlessly. Cuba and Prussia caught each other's eye, echoing the same disturbing thought.

This was going to be harder than they thought.

Vögelchen- Little bird/birdie