I apologize quite profusely. I took forever to write this chapter. I feel so bad for making you all wait for this. But school is still a pain, but I'm surviving.

When I started writing this chapter, it was because I couldn't walk. I sprained my ankle. And I role play England. Oh how wonderful. It could have been worse. Luckily it isn't.

Otherwise, I do not own Hetalia. I just write fanfiction.

Arm in a sling, face bruised from my broken nose, I was helped from the hospital room by Prussia. He brought me to England's room.

"Bloody Hell, lad, has the bruising gotten worse, or something?"

I suppressed laughter. "Don't make me laugh, it hurts."

"Sorry. So you're leaving today?"

"Yeah. I just have one question. Do you know if you may have provoked someone without realizing?"

England shrugged. "Not that I know of. But as you said, I would have done it unintentionally."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Has anyone been acting odd around you lately?"

"I thought you said only one question."

I glared at him. "England..."

"Alright. I feel as if France and America are acting like someone's watching them all the time. The thing is, I haven't seen France since I first got into the hospital. You'd think he'd be here all the time."

I thanked England hastily, and stood to leave. "I'll talk to him, try and get him to visit."

I walked out of the room, and, closing the door, I leaned against Prussia.

"Birdie, are you okay? Are your unawesome injuries gettin' to you?"

I nodded. "Let's go to the hotel. Please. I'm too tired to think right now."

Prussia lifted me up, and carried me out of the hospital, and into the car. I relaxed. I was trying to focus on my breathing. Prussia was tapping on the wheel to the beat of the music. He struggled to pull off his glove, only to drop it on the floor. He bent to pick it up.

"Prussia! Prussia, forget about your goddamn glove and keep your eyes on the fucking road!" I started to scream uncontrollably.

He sat up, and pulled over. My muscles were tense, adrenaline pumping though my veins. I pushed myself back against the door. I couldn't think straight. My head was pounding. I'd knocked my glasses off. Everything was a blur. My breath was short. Prussia stared at me.

"Birdie? Birdie, what's wrong?"

"Please..." my voice had gotten softer. "Just keep your eyes on the road. Just... please. I don't want another accident."

Prussia sighed. "Alright," he held my hand, "just don't panic, okay? You can trust the awesome me to drive."

I stared at him. I trust him. I really do trust him not to crash.

"Okay. Just... let's get back to the hotel."

I tried to relaxed, and laid my head against the window. I drew my knees as close to my chest as I could without causing myself pain. My entire body shook. I'm so tired. Just so tired.

I shut my eyes. I knew we wouldn't be at the hotel for at least the next five minutes. Then again, with Prussia's driving? I half expect us to arrive at the hotel any second.

"Prussia? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I freaked out. I had no right to yell at you." My voice was just barely above a whisper.

"Really? You're really going to say that? Will you chill? It's not awesome to apologize for anything and everything." Prussia started to laugh.

I smiled softly. "Thanks."

"Canada, shouldn't you be trying to think of who would do this to Ol' Eyebrows?"

I grunted in response. I started to focus. It happened at nine a.m. Toronto time. America was with him. That's all we know. Who would be so pissed off that the only way to make it better, was to try to kill a fellow nation? Well, off the top of my head... Russia. No. He wouldn't. He's been otherwise distracted by... well, America. He hasn't actually hurt anyone since the Cold War, and that was almost purely mental and emotional attacks towards his current boyfriend. Well, what if this was more of an emotional attack towards America, and England was just collateral damage? Could it be... Cuba? He hates America's guts, and would probably do anything to see my brother suffer. It also, though I truly despise this idea, could have been France. America had taken time out of when England and France could have been doing whatever they damn well pleased, but America got in the way. Or, maybe, although unlikely, Japan? I mean, America did nuke two different cities during World War II.

All this thinking is making my head hurt.

"Well, and the great mind on Canada has come up with...?"

"Nothing. I don't have a clue about who did this."

"Nothing? Really? Are you sure? You didn't consider anyone, even for a moment?"

I laughed a little. "None with any real proof."

"You got your next job then? Find some proof to nail 'em."

Do you know how freaking hard it is to find proof when you don't know what you're looking for? I have searched email inboxes, the intersection where the accident happened, the hotel room I was attacked in, everywhere. The closest was an email sent to America, (yes I hacked his email, it isn't hard when his password for everything is beautiful-stars-and-stripes50), sent from an anonymous sender by the address . I'm half considering knocking off everyone on my "maybe" list, for lack of a sense of humour.

"France,
Why haven't you seen England? He misses you, and he's worried. Please go see him. Could you call me too, I haven't seen you since I was in the hospital. I'm starting to worry about you. Is everything alright? Have you been hurt, or something? You've been acting odd lately. Maybe you should try going outside. Some fresh air may do you some good. Take a walk, smell the roses. Please.
Is there anything you might know about what happened? I'm trying to make sure no one else is hurt like England and I were. I'm asking, because I don't want you or America to get hurt.
From,
Ton petit Canada."

"Birdie, anything?"

I shook my head. I picked though the anonymous email, piece by piece, and... found nothing. Well, proof-wise. It was definitely supposed to scare America, considering it threatens him with "slow and painful torture" unless he backs off and does not try to help me find who attacked England. I double checked the date of the email. The day after I arrived at London.

"Prussia, do you know how many nations have fake email addresses?"

"Most, just to prank citizens with stupid spam, why?"

"I'm still thinking about this email America got. It's from a Yahoo account called "dummy". It's kind of odd. Who would make it so obvious? I mean, whoever did this has a sense of humour, but everyone I had thought of lacks in that area."

"Maybe they borrowed another person's dummy account. Did you try tracing it?"

"Yeah, but it's origin is unknown, but the closest to an origin was it travelled though a Baltic State between America's computer, and Mr. Anonymous."

I sighed. This was taking a lot out of me. I couldn't handle much more. I felt a tear roll down my cheeks. Prussia came up behind me. He massaged my shoulders gently. Just enough to calm me down.

"Get some sleep, will ya? No offence, but you're a real bitch running on no sleep."

I spun around in my chair, and smacked him in the face. He glared at me, and pulled me out of my seat, pushing me onto my bed.

"Sleep, or I'll sick Gilbird on you."

I laughed, before laying back, and actually taking time to relax.

A text message arrived while I slept.

"Mon cher Canada,
I need to speak to you.
Do you want to go for un peu de cafe?
-France"

Please review, even if it isn't long, it's still beautiful, and in all honesty, it makes me know that people are reading and *hopefully* enjoying this.