Did I forget to mention pairings? I'm sorry. FrUK, PruCan, AmericaxRussia
I don't own Hetalia.


Canada's POV

"We have to find out who hit him." I said, staring at my older brother.

America nodded. He hadn't said much since I arrived in London, but I was okay with that. I wanted to check on England, no matter how exhausted he was.

"Canada," America murmured. "Are you hungry, by any chance?"

Shit... I haven't eaten since yesterday. No matter, I could last a few hours.

"No," I lied, "why do you ask?"

America shrugged. He knew I wanted to go to the hospital, but it seemed like he was avoiding it. I dropped my voice.

"America. Why are you avoiding the hospital?" I whispered.

He shrugged again. Jeez, I'm never gonna get an answer out of him. I slumped in my seat in the car, and stared out the window. My hands were shaking, I could feel them through the fabric of my sweater, and they tightened into fists. I curled up into a ball on my seat.

"Canada? Are you okay?"

I glanced up at my brother, and answered.

"No, I'm not."

I was thinking about the accident I had gotten into, around three years ago. Someone had swerved to avoid a cat, and ended up t-boning my car pretty badly. I was in the hospital for a while then.

America's hand rested on the top of my head. "Fuck, you're thinking about that, aren't you?"

I nodded, weakly. I was surprised that America had left England's side, seeing as he didn't leave mine after my accident. I glanced over at him.

"Put your damn hand back on that fucking wheel."

Yep. Still tired. I closed my eyes, and leaned against the window of the car. There were the screeching tires again, but they were quieter. I dreamed that I could be with my boyfriend, and not have to worry who was sick, who was hurt and who was fighting. I dreamed that England was okay, and America was just being himself, and making fun of England's cooking again. Everything is okay. No one's hurt.

"Hey, wake up, we're here."

I opened my eyes, and saw the hospital in front of us. I sat up, and climbed out of the car. America led the way, and kept talking the whole time. Nerves, maybe? He said that France was with England now, because he had to come get me from the airport. I thought about how, when America got me from the Airport, he said a drunk driver had hit England. But who would be able to drink enough to get drunk at nine o'clock? Judging my time zones, England was hit around nine. Nothing made sense anymore. I gave up thinking about that.

"Shit... I can't remember what room he's in." America grumbled, walking towards a nurse. "Could you tell me what room Arthur Kirkland is in?"

"Room 209."

America turned around, and marched towards the elevator. I grabbed his arm, and pulled him towards the stairs. Seriously, he wants to lose weight, but won't work for it? He slumped as he climbed the stairs, finally silent. I spoke up.

"America, you said it was a drunk driver that hit England, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, who would really want to get drunk before nine? It doesn't make sense."

America turned around. "Do me a favour. Don't say your suspicions around England. He doesn't remember anything, but I don't want him to worry about whether this was an attempt on his life. I really doubt it was. Maybe it was a drunk driver. We just don't know."

I nodded, knowing that we really shouldn't traumatize someone in the hospital. I followed my brother into England's room, and I gasped. His head and neck were heavily bandaged, as was what else I could see of his arms and hands.

"Hey Iggy," My voice got about a million times softer. Damn anxiety.

England raised his eyebrows, as if he couldn't hear me. I stepped closer, and repeated myself. He smiled weakly, obviously exhausted.

"How are you?" I muttered.

No reply. England had closed his eyes, and began to breathe softly. He'd fallen asleep. I glanced at Alfred, who shrugged, and gestured for France and me to follow him. We stopped just outside the room, and Alfred closed the door tightly.

"Canada... I think you're right. How else would I have been able to jump out of the way in time? Someone wants England to die. We can't let him find out."

I stared disbelievingly at America. He believes me? What happened to earlier?

"Canada? You have any ideas as to how we can figure this out?"

I shrugged. I honestly had no idea how to figure this out. I wasn't good at this, I was better at keeping out of fights. We needed someone who knew what they were doing. I guessed at how I could get any info of importance.

"America, did you see the driver? Could you tell what he looked like? What car he was driving?"

America stared at his feet, trying to remember. "He was blond. That's all I remember."

"That's a start, eh?" Not much of one... But it was still a start. I made a mental note to write down any info America gives me as he tells me, or, in this case, when I get to my hotel room.

Short Chapter is short. It'll be longer next chapter, just I had writer's block, and I've been uber stressed lately. I'm sorry this took so long guys. PLEASE REVIEW! :D