A/N- Don't kill me. Please don't kill me. I'll explain in the authors note at the bottom... (Sorry this is a little late but I wanted to make sure that things would turn out alright in the next chapter before I posted this).

Crappy title is crappy...

Warnings: Violence and strong language...

Chapter 16- I'm Sorry

Canada glanced behind him briefly at his papa as he took his first cautious step down the stairs. Apparently France had only told England that he was going to comfort the boy so any 'daring escape in the name of l'amour' as France, ever the melodramatic had put it, had to be done secretly and silently to avoid confrontation.

Canada was perfectly fine with this plan, as he was sure that he could get out without being noticed. The problem was; France insisted on 'escaping' with him to make sure he didn't get caught and, though he loved the older man dearly, Canada had to admit that the Frenchman was terrible at keeping quiet. Even as he searched the stairs for non creaky patches of ground, he could hear the blonde behind him humming happilyat his success in restoring love. Frustrated, Canada turned and shushed the older man, before making his way down the stairs.

So far so good. He thought with a smile as he reached the bottom step, closely followed by France. Quickly he made his way to the door, his footfalls silent on the carpeted floor, while the Frenchman followed behind not nearly as quietly. The door was in sight and Canada smiled to himself. Today he was going to make things right. Him and Russia were going to get back together and everything would go back to the way it was before, and they would be happy.

Determinedly, he reached for the doorhandle only to freeze as a familiar American accent reached his ears.

"Bro! You're up!" America called, happily bounding over and giving him a hug. Canada froze, unsure of what to do. He still didn't want to talk to his brother but in his moment of panic he seemed to have temporarily forgotten how to move and simply stood still, unable to speak.

It was France who reacted first. He stepped forward and swung an arm around America's shoulder, grinning slightly. "Ah! Amérique! I have not seen you in ages. 'ow have you been doing?" He exclaimed happily.

America blinked once, surprised at the sudden arrival of the Frenchman, before smiling back. "I've been doing awesome! In fact my boss just recently started this program..." and his rambling began.

Behind America, Canada shot his father a grateful smile, for once glad that the Frenchman had tagged along. Quickly, while his brother was distracted, Canada slipped out the door and made his way down the path. He was halfway down the road when America burst out of the house, having noticed his brother had gone and, for once, putting two and two together and realizing his brother was going back to Russia.

His shouts echoed down the road and Canada broke into a run, sprinting down the street and towards the city centre.

He may not have looked like much, but years of playing hockey had made Canada very fast and before long he was away from his father's house and, hopefully, his brother.

xXx

Canada stood alone in front of the large house and shivered as the cold Russian air swirled around his shoulders. He had left England's house too quickly to grab a jacket and now he was regretting it.

After running from America he had successfully found a taxi and made it to the airport without running into any family members, but it didn't take a genius to work out were he had gone so he probably only had a limited amount of time before his family caught up.

It was this thought that prompted the Canadian to walk forwards along the path and up to the house, but he paused before the door to think. Did Russia really want to see him or was France just making it up? He wouldn't put it past him... but still... there was only one way to find out.

Canada raised a quivering hand and hesitantly knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer. After about ten minutes of silent waiting, he finally accepted that no one would come and reached for the door handle. To his surprise he found it unlocked and, after a moments hesitation, he swung the door inwards and slipped inside the dark house.

xXx

"He did what?" England shrieked, standing up from his chair.

So far this day hadn't been going well, first with Canada's refusing to eat, then France's unexpected visit and now this. Just moments ago two angry nations had suddenly barged into his private reading room, in the middle of a heated argument with one another. Apparently, America and France had fallen out over something and just had to bother him with it. Needless to say, it wasn't long before he had bashed both their heads together and asked what the bloody hell they thought they were doing. America had begun to say something, but before he could finish, France had clasped a hand over the American's mouth, preventing him from speaking. America responded to this by licking the Frenchman's hand, making him recoil in disgust and start to complain in French. And so, the whole bloody argument began all over again.

Eventually, England had had enough and screamed at them to either shut up and get out or tell him what was wrong. France had pouted and looked away and America, realizing that the other had given up, decided to speak.

"This idiot," He began, "Told Canada that Russia still wanted to be with him and helped him to escape!"

And so we are brought back to the present situation. England drew himself up to his full height and glared down at the Frenchman, his eyes filled with anger. France laughed sheepishly and looked away, unable to meet the Brit's gaze. "Why would you do that?" He shouted, but France looked back up defiantly.

"Because mon fils is in love. And I will not try and take zat away from him like you so clearly 'ave."

England's eyes blazed. "You don't seem to realize what you've done! Do you realize the danger you put Canada in!"

France merely pouted. "I think zat Canada knows ze danger just fine and if he still wants to be with Russia zen he should."

England huffed and turned his back on France, storming towards the door but before he left he paused in front of America. "Get your coat. We're bringing him back." America grinned and followed his father out the room.

The door closed and France was left staring at the wood, dumbfounded. Poor Canada had had to deal with them over his boyfriend on his own? It didn't bear thinking about. The blonde shook his head in disappointment, when suddenly a thought dawned on him. He would go with them and try to convince them that Canada was fine, maybe they would go back. A smile spread across his face. L'amour would triumph once again.

xXx

A figure sat alone in an armchair by an empty fireplace, a half empty vodka bottle hanging from his fingertips. Empty bottles of alcohol littered the floor of the room, with a few broken pieces of glass here and there, scattered like shrapnel.

Canada stepped into the room and glanced around blindly, unused to the sudden darkness. He wrinkled his nose at the scent of alcohol and stood in the doorway for a few moments, waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark. When he could eventually see, the Canadian scanned the room carefully, searching for any sign of his lover. He almost missed him, hunched up in a chair with his back to the door, but when he eventually noticed him Canada gasped. He had never seen Russia look as depressed, as forlorn, as... broken as he did now. He looked so much weaker, curled up in the huge armchair, unmoving. His hand was covering his face, hiding it from view but it was easy to see he was upset and his precious scarf was crumpled and slightly dirty.

Automatically, Canada made his way over to the Russian, but he froze when his purple eyes suddenly opened and he glared at the Canadian icily.

The blonde shivered under the older man's gaze but he stood tall, wondering what had brought this on. "I-Ivan?" He began, taking a step forward.

"Stay away from me." The Russian spat, his eyes burning into the boy.

Canada winced at his harsh words and he felt tears fill his eyes. "W-what? I-I don't understand-"

"I said stay away from me!" Russia snarled, his eyes flashing. Canada flinched.

"B-but why?" He whispered quietly. "I th-thought you wanted me back?"

Russia growled. "Not you. I want Matvey! Not another illusion sent to taunt me! It's just like before, nothing's changed. Everybody leaves me in the end..." he finished bitterly.
Canada blinked. Illusion? Did Russia think he wasn't real? Then that meant... that meant he did want him back. Quickly, he straightened up and took a deep breath. "I-Ivan, I'm real, I'm h-here... I'm not a fake... I didn't leave you..."

Russia's eyes narrowed. "That's what they all say." He hissed.

"No, I'm real! I ran away from England's house!" Canada insisted, causing the Russian to lean his head forward, casting his eyes in shadow.

"Kol kol kol..." he murmured, glaring at the blonde. Canada felt his blood turn to ice and he stared at Russia with fear in his eyes. "I don't want to be lied to Canada, even by an illusion." He said in a sweet tone, a creepy grin spreading across his face. Canada gulped and backed into the wall. This wasn't Russia. Not his Russia. This Russia was terrifying and dangerous, not sweet and kind like the one he knew...

"R-Russia? I-It's me... please believe me..." Canada whimpered, unsure of what to do.

Russia only grinned wider. "I'm sorry, Ca~na~da," He said the word childishly with a creepy giggle. "But I think that you're a LIAR!" The last few words were screeched and as he said them he flung his half-empty vodka bottle at the Canadian. Canada screamed and covered his head and thankfully the bottle missed its mark, instead shattering on the wall behind him. Shards fell in all directions, one or two grazing Canada's face as they did so, making him wince. He raised a hand to his cheek and gasped when he found blood there. He was wiping it off when a shadow passed over him and he looked up into the cold violet eyes of a Russian.

Russia glared down at him cruelly, and Canada found himself backing against the wall to get away from the man. Russia leaned forward, a solemn expression on his face and opened his mouth to speak. "Matvey is gone. He is much safer with his family than with me, I'm dangerous. He won't be coming back... You are not him."

"P-please, Russia- Ivan, d-don't do this! I'm real I-" suddenly a hand shot out and closed around the Canadian boy's throat, making him gasp. Russia straightened up, taking Canada with him, one hand still clasped around his neck, raising him up to eye level. "Nyet. You are not Matvey." he snarled.

Canada could feel tears spilling down his cheeks. He was going to die- going to suffocate at the hands of his lover. It hurt. Not because he was dying, but because when Russia realized what he had done it would kill him inside... Desperately, he tried to pry the large hands off his throat but it was no use. "I'm sorry..." he whispered with the last of his breath, as his vision grew hazy.

Suddenly the door to the room burst open and America and England stumbled in, closely followed by France.

France had decided to tag along on the the trip to Russia and for the entire time, tried to change England and America's minds, leaving them very irritated after a long flight. England was all set to drag Canada back to his house, had he not come willingly, but now he and the other two nations stared at the scene before him with horror-struck faces.

Russia turned to look at them and all of a sudden, realization dawned of him. He dropped Canada in shock and backed away, covering his mouth in horror as he realized what he'd done. "M-Matvey..." he whispered to himself. "N-nyet..."

Canada lay coughing on the ground with tears in his eyes, trying to regain the air that he'd lost. His throat felt constricted and the tears from his stinging eyes ran down his cheek and mixed with blood from the scratch from the glass.

Canada's family were shocked at what they had stumbled upon, they had had no idea that the boy was in this kind of danger. They knew that he had been hurt before, but the blonde had insisted it was Belarus's doing and not the Russian's. It was shocking to say the least.

For a few moments no-one moved and the only sounds were Canada's small snuffles, as he lay curled up and alone on the floor.

No-one expected the first person to react to be France, but within seconds he was over by his son's side, cradling the boy in his arms and whispering soothing French words into his ears. He glared at Russia venomously over his son's shoulder, regretting his decision to help the boy escape. England was right. This relationship was dangerous for his son and he wished he's never supported it. He just wished it hadn't taken Canada's almost death for him to realize it.

Gradually, Canada's shaking subsided and his sobs grew to nothing more than small whimpers, while his family watched over him worriedly. France rubbed the blonde's back comfortingly, before nodding to the two other men who were hovering over them anxiously. "He will be okay." He said with sad eyes, unhappy with the unexpected turn the day had happened.

England let out a sigh of relief and crouched down next to his son. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, he gave him a small smile. "I'm glad you're alright lad..."

Canada gave him a shaky smile in return and looked up to his brother but his smile fell when he saw that, instead of looking at him, America was glaring over at Russia, a murderous aura surrounding him.

"You f*cking bastard..." he growled at the Russian, who was still standing against the wall, his face in his hand. "How dare you."

Russia looked up at the American, sorrow written all over his face. He had done something awful that day. Something he had promised himself he would let no-one do, and yet he had done it himself. He had hurt Canada. His Canada and he hated himself for it. Slowly, he looked up at America and saw eyes that promised murder. Murder that he knew he deserved.

A/N- Don't kill me! -hides-

Okay, so I can safely promise that this will all work out, I hate sad endings and I never write them, okay? Okay.

Translations:

L'amour: 'Love' in French

Amérique: 'America' in French

Mon Fils: 'My son' in French

Nyet: 'No' in Russian

Now, a little explanation: I believe that several elements would lead to Russia believing that Canada would be a hallucination. For starters, depression from the 'breakup' coupled with excessive amounts of strong alcohol such as Vodka could have a side effect of hallucinations, such as imaginary people like Canada or members of the old Soviet Union that Russia felt 'left him' and leading him to believe that they are all 'fake'.

Also, Russia is often depicted as a 'Yandere' character and often Yandere characters are described as having schizophrenia and one of the symptoms of schizophrenia is hallucinations.

After being plagued by 'illusions' (hallucinations) for the last couple of days, Russia would have grown frustrated at the thought of people he loved taunting him and would begin to lash out at them, including the real Canada. Upon realizing that Canada was the real one, Russia would be horrified by what he had done, getting a sense of Deja vu from the Soviet days when he was nasty to the Baltics and would feel insanely guilty, feeling that he deserved anything America threw at him.

And that's my reasoning... sorry if it didn't make sense... ^^;

x

I already have half of the next chapter written, so the next update shouldn't take too long, and I promise it'll all work out in the end.

Again, thanks for all your awesome reviews. Please continue to review as it gets me off my lazy ass and keeps me focused on writing. (I have the attention span of a cat... if you own a cat, you'll know what I mean.)

~Tigress

xxx