A/N: Quick note about why I changed the rating. As I was typing up the chapter, I realized that the language I use might be a bit inappropriate for readers under the age of sixteen (then again, kids are exposed to vulgar language earlier and earlier each generation...). I thought about changing the words, but I firmly believe that they are relevant for the setting, and I will be using them again in later chapters. Also, I make references to alcohol in this chapter (remember, drinking age is twenty-one. And yes, I'm basing the whole drinking off of my own experience.) So, just to make sure nobody gets offended and flags my story (I doubt I get enough readers for that...but whatever), I'm changing the rating for safety precautions.

Tl;dr From here on, strong language and references to alcohol and sadistic psychos. No lemon, lime, etc. Enjoy~

The glass sat in front of him, filled to the brim with bronze liquid and ice. He had asked for the strongest drink in the bar, and after the first drink he had to give them credit. The liquor burned every time it went down his throat. How many glasses had he drunk so far? The surface around the glass wobbled in his vision, and he found himself shaking his head. A wasted attempt. He knew he had passed his limit long ago. None of those silly mixes for him. Tonight, he was drinking everything straight. Was going to feel the full effects of intoxication.

Grabbing the glass, he managed to bring the rim to his mouth without spilling a drop and downed the liquor in one gulp. Eyes watered. Throat burned. Alcohol entered his system once again. He slammed the empty drink back onto the counter, drawing a wary glance from the barkeeper.

With a resigned sigh, he closed his eyes. But immediately reopened them with a silent curse. No matter how many drinks he had, no matter how much of that poison was mixed into his bloodstream, the results were the same. The image of America's broken form constantly resurfaced in his mind. The sound of America's agonizing scream constantly reverberated in his ears.

Hands clenched with too much force. Nails digging into soft flesh. Muffled pain. A new stickiness forming in his grip.

And it did not help that he was alone.

"Are you going to leave?"

The violet eyes that held absolute fatigue returned his gaze. Anger that was previously in control now replaced with worry.

"England, you know as well as I do that I can't stay here. I'm going to check on my people, but I assure you that I'll go to my brother's capitol as fast as I can afterwards."

He nodded at the prudence, though it should have been expected. Canada may be overshadowed by his brother, but he had a tendency to keep a cool head during America's emergency situations.

"It's not going to be easy to get to D.C. No doubt the American people will be upset by the incident. And most likely will be demonstrating their emotions through mass protests."

Canada's smile was tight. "What else is new?"

And after a brief handshake, the younger nation went his way, leaving him alone in the empty office.

Alone.

He sneered at the word. Why did it affect him to this extent? After all, hadn't he been proud of his "splendid isolation" in the past? He should be used to this by now. Hell, why was he so worried about that idiot anyway? America is strong. He'll manage to get out of this because he's a hero, and heroes always win in the end…

"What the fuck am I saying?"

He motioned to the barkeep, who hesitated for a second before sliding another glass down the bar. His hand reached out to stop the drink, but it was halted right before it came within his reach.

"Had too much to drink already, England? So rude of you to start without me."

He scoffed, recognizing the voice even in his drunken state. "Maybe y' should come faster th'n, stup'd Frenchie."

Glazed emeralds turned and glared at the fellow nation. Rival. Enemy. Ally. Such a paradoxical relationship that had continued to change over the course of history. He usually felt bitterness or annoyance when he saw that wavy blond hair and that stubble. But at the moment, France's presence brought a sort of relief.

Because it meant he was not alone.

After Canada had left, he found himself falling on the sofa. Frankly, he didn't know what to do next. The workers at the Ministry of Defense had informed the Queen about the attack already, but they were unaware of the new development. It was his duty to report the CD as evidence, but what could the humans do? Tracking the source of the file would take time, which they clearly did not have. Besides, this was an international affair. Even if they somehow found the location of that maniac, they would have to contact the American government before any action is taken.

And in that time, the bastard can simply move to who knows where.

He ran his hand over his face and sighed. It was too bewildering. Almost as if all of it was a dream. Well, more like a nightmare. In this confused state, he prayed that he would wake up and find the idiot laughing at him for falling asleep again during a meeting.

Vibrations from his pocket brought him out of his thoughts. A strange sense of hope rose inside as he pulled out his mobile phone, hope that the caller was America telling him that everything was under control. It was a hope that was crushed as soon as he saw the caller I.D.

"I am not in the mood for any of your usual antics, so this had better be good."

"Calm down, England. I was calling to make sure you're okay."

"And why would I be okay? Are you seriously unaware of what's going on, France?"

"If you're referring to the…incident involving America, then I'd have to say that the entire world is aware. However…" A few seconds of silence that nearly caused England to explode. "I wanted to see if you had any new information to share."

Frozen. Phone in hand. Loss for words. Was he and Canada the only ones to know about the psychopath? How was he supposed to explain that there was a possibility of a human, other than their bosses, who knew about their existence? Was it even probable that a human could kidnap a nation, let alone America?

"What do you mean by new information?"

"So, you didn't receive anything like a phone call? Or maybe a package?"

He stopped again as he felt an unrelenting cold grip his heart. "France, did you watch the video?"

A momentary pause made him fear that the other nation had hung up. But he eventually got a reply, though the voice trembled slightly.

"I did, England, I did."

"Who else saw it, France? Do you know of anyone else…"

"So far you're the only one I've talked to. I'm deciding whether I want to call the others, but…"

"But you don't know if they got the CD…"

"I don't want to spread unneeded panic, England. Everyone is confused already, and I'd rather avoid adding to it."

England bit his lower lip, wracking his brain for a solution. "I think it's safe to say that anybody who saw the video will contact me first, since I used to be America's guardian. Well, either me or you. So for now, we should keep this to ourselves."

"Are you sure?"

"Look, let's meet up. Maybe we can work together and decide what to do next."

"You're suggesting that we work together? The world must finally be coming to an end."

He gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep his anger in check. "I'm warning you, France. Do not push me."

"My apologies. Just a little dry humor…"

"…Same place?"

"Might as well. Unless you want to meet somewhere else?"

"I'll fly down there. Wait for me."

"You managed to get here faster than I expected."

"They l't me on the f'rst available pl'ne. Y'know, sp'cial pr'vel'ge 'n all…"

"So you decided to drink yourself to death."

England hung his head and stared at his bleeding hand. "Why d' you care? J'st make f'n of me l'ke always…"

"What am I going to do with you? So old, yet you still act like a child." France sighed when he got a grunt in response. "Let's focus on the problem at hand. So far we can assume that some nutjob fired those weapons."

"'N k'dnapped 'merica…"

"We don't know that for sure. He could have been using someone similar."

England raised his head, eyes blazing at France's suggestion. Words no longer slurred. "France, you heard his voice. You saw him in that chair. You know its him, so don't fucking say that it wasn't him in that video."

France swallowed thickly at the vehemence. "I'm sorry England."

"No, I'm sorry. I…" He covered his face with both hands, forgetting that blood was still seeping from one of them. "I just…I hate seeing him like that. It shouldn't happen. America's not supposed to get into such a situation."

"…England, give me your hand."

He didn't resist when France took his injured hand and began to wipe the blood with a napkin. Instead, England began to meditate over a new realization.

"France…"

"Yes, England?"

"Something's not right."

"Bear with the awkwardness. I'm almost done."

"Th't's not what I meant!" He took a deep breath to calm down and continued, ignoring the curious stares from the other people in the bar. "Before C'nada and I discovered the CD…"

"Canada? He was with you?"

"Yes, he was, but listen." England unconsciously lowered his voice. "Right before we watched the file, we found Kumajirou in a corner. Completely spooked. And he said that he saw the fucking bastard a few minutes before we returned to my office. But you got the CD too, which means he visited you. So…"

"…So how did he change locations in such a short amount of time?"

"Exactly."

"Well, we don't have clear evidence that he visited me per say…"

"How else would he deliver them? Through mail?"

"…England, I believe your coat pocket is vibrating."

"Hm…?"

France simply sighed again and removed the phone. With a raised eyebrow, he answered the call. "Hello? Yes, this is England's number. Ah, he's a little drunk, so he must've missed your previous calls. Anyway, how can I help you Germany?"

England stared with confusion at the talking nation. Confusion because he was rarely contacted by the beer-lover. But his heart filled with dread as he watched France's face fall.

"I see. It must have been very unexpected…Italy was present also? …Do you know if anyone else…oh, well, perhaps we should meet and talk face-to-face…yes, he saw it too, so of course he'll come…I'll call you back when he's sober, okay? …Good night, Germany."

England did not bother to look up when France closed the phone. "Him too?"

France merely nodded and reached for the drink he had prevented from getting to England before. The alcohol an unexpected temptation. Less than a fourth down, he sputtered and lowered the glass from his lips.

"My goodness, how do you drink this cheap liquor?"

"It's stronger and manlier than your sissy wine."

"And unsophisticated. How many have you had?"

"…I lost count."

"Then you're in no condition to make any decisions tonight. Come! Sleep at my place and we'll meet Germany in the morning."

"Me? Stay at your place? I want to be able to sleep without worrying about getting molested."

"Oh please. You're too drunk to be fun anyway."

"Horny bastard."

"Big brother only wants to spread the love."

"Keep your perverted love to yourself."

Still, England allowed the other nation to pay the bill and guide him down the streets, since it would be impossible for him to find a decent hotel. For he had to admit that he had too much to drink. So, he followed France into the house, slowly losing the motivation to stay awake. He moved mechanically until he was finally allowed to collapse onto a bed. He was vaguely aware of being tucked in before the lights were turned off, but the calm atmosphere was enough to remove any resistance he had left. As he felt himself lose to sleep, he muttered under his alcohol-filled breath.

"Please be okay…America."

He remained in the shadows, watching the still form on the bed. Only when he heard the soft snores did he decide to move.

Gliding smoothly and stealthily. Avoiding any possibility of creating a sound. Stopping at the bedside.

Amethyst eyes stared down at the sleeping nation, the same eyes that had watched him as he was carried down the streets, brought into the room. He had heard the nation's final words before sleep claimed victory, and he could not help but chuckle.

"It really is surprising, the similarities. Then and now, you never change, do you?"

Reaching inside his coat jacket, he pulled out a single envelope and placed it on the night stand. Come morning, it would be the first object that catches England's eyes when he awakens. The words written on the front would be more than enough.

With a final chuckle, he went back into the shadows and disappeared as England shifted slightly under the sheets.