Chapter 1:
The Disappearance

"You'll be back soon, right?"

Canada put on his most reassuring smile and spoke in the voice that was almost identical to America's, albeit the softness. "It's just a check up. I'll be fine."

Then why did you scream. I can still hear you screaming.

Blue eyes scanned over his Northern American brother, lingering over the lower half of his body.

Canada had said nothing about the burns.

America would never have known if he didn't forget his cell phone; he never would have returned to that meeting room to find his brother where he never would have found his brother, whimpering on the floor, clutching his legs close to his chest. He never would have seen the way England had froze when he had seen him, never would have seen that brief glimpse of fear, and never would have seen the emotion on England's face as his expression contorted into rage and he screamed, "Get out, get out!" And if he had listened to England, if only he had just picked up his phone and left, he never would have seen how Canada's pant legs were rolled up to his knees, and the raw, pink, fleshthat encompassed both of Canada's legs. And he never would have known that this was an ongoing issue, and that England had been taking care of Canada for quite a while now.

America had argued, he's my goddamn brother, it should be me taking care of him, you live on the other side of the damn ocean, and had said it out of spite, because why was this such a secret, why are you both hiding this from me? And eventually, England got the message and grudgingly left, leaving America to take care of his brother. But it was then, during the dead of the night, America would wake up because Canada was screaming, screaming incoherent words, screaming until his lungs gave out. America would check Canada's wounds, and see that they were fresh, raw skin, always bleeding. The constant thought, this can't be a war, I would know, we share a border, had crossed America's mind, but he couldn't help but ask, why are these burns so different. Why do they keep coming back?

And now here they are, Canada having convinced his brother that it was a human issue, it had nothing to do with politics or economy, it was just Matthew Williams that experienced the burns. So as Matthew Williams, Canada would visit the doctor, had insisted that he do it alone. Because Matthew Williams did not want to feel weak, he would do this alone, to show America that he was fine.

"But you'll be back soon, right?" The worry was evident in America's voice.

"It's just a check up." Canada responded. His pet polar bear tugged on Canada's leg, and America could clearly see that it pained him. But with such tenderness, Canada leaned down and ruffled the bear's fur, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Take care of Kumajirou while I'm gone." Canada had said.

"But it's just a check up, you haveto be back soon." America complained, because if it really was just a check up, Canada wouldn't be long, right?

Canada said nothing. He merely limped out of his household, into his car, and drove off.

Canada never came back.

"Just come."

"I don't see the point in coming; Matthew may be young as a nation, but as a human he is tenfold that of the age of what he looks like. We can't coddle him. He'll come back when he does."

"He hasn't called me. At all. That's really not like him."

"Has it ever come to your mind that maybe Matthew wants some space?"

There was a slight pause, and when Alfred spoke, anguish had filled his voice. "I did think that. For the first two months. But it's been seven months, Arthur, he would have called by now, he's not that selfish or fool hardy." There was a time for ignorance and play. This was not one of those times.

Then Alfred had almost smiled because the silence indicated that Arthur had agreed with him. And then Alfred did smile, when Arthur had said, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I'm sorry. I have to go." Arthur leaned down, and lightly kissed the colony on the forehead. The little colony cocked his head to the side, not understanding. "Can't you stay? Pleaaaaase!"

Arthur chuckled and ruffled his colony's blonde hair, and duly noted the errant curl that refused to stay in line with the rest of the child's wavy blonde hair. "I can't stay. I have things to do. But dear, I'll be back."

The child nodded, only understanding the part where Arthur promised to come back. Smiling softly, Arthur strode out the door, out of the house where his colony resided. But to his surprise, no sooner had he done so had his colony ran after him, crying, and holding a small white stuffed bear that Arthur had made so the little child wouldn't be so lonely.

"Take this!" the colony said as he thrust two short arms at Arthur, the white bear raised high above his head. "Take this! Kumajirou protects me when I'm scared, so he'll protect you when you're scared!"

With a little chortle, Arthur graciously accepted the stuffed bear. Even though he had created it, it was another nation that named it. Japan had grown close to Arthur's little colony, and had expressed his care in small ways, like naming the stuffed bear. "I promise I'll be back." He said, as he tucked the white bear in the inside of his coat. "I have to come back now, so I can return this to you."

His colony beamed, and Arthur had thought that maybe, this child was more cunning then he was given credit.

The two embraced one last time.

And then Arthur was gone.

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"I don't know. Anything. Something."

Alfred fumbled with the drawers, anxiously pulling each one open and close, hoping to find a clue. He doesn't even exactly know what he was looking for; he didn't even know whatto look for. But he needed to look, because something needed to be found.

Arthur refused to tell Alfred anything. Arthur had obviously known something, but he's just so goddamn British he won't admit he knows anything.

Or maybe Alfred is just so afraid that Arthur really doesn't know anything.

Green eyes scanned the horizon, watching as the sun lightly touched upon the ocean. Sandy blonde hair capped by a tri-coloured hat, waistcoat and breeches a rich blue. He sighed, as he felt the cool and pointed tip of a blade at the back of his neck.

"Privateers," the man behind him sneered, his voice covered thick with a Spanish accent. "They are the same as Pirates. Barbaric. Rude. Uncouth."

Arthur couldn't help but snicker. "Then in this world, we are all privateers."

The blade pressed a bit further. "Do not speak to me so cryptically."

And now, Arthur felt the heat. He felt the heat of his burning, sinking ship. But that wasn't all. He felt the intense burning sensation in his heart, and recognized that all too familiar and loathing voice that was deep and French say, "Turn around."

He turned to face his two greatest enemies. He turned to face his burning ship, two pointed swords, and two nations smiling ever so eagerly at his demise.

"Your capital is burning." Francis stated matter-of-factly. "England is in hell. You are lost."

Arthur numbly nodded, and held on to the railing for support, trying his best to hide his pain, because he was stronger than this, he was better than them, he didn't want to show them weakness.

"Quickly," Antonio urged. "This ship is going down, and I am not as willing as Inglaterra to sleep with the fishes."

"I want to see him suffer." Francis sneered. Because Francis was always one to hold a grudge, especially after Arthur had burned that girl on a stake.

And Arthur didn't mind going down in flames. He would have surely fought to the death, in a battle where he knew he was already dying, because they had already destroyed England and there was nothing binding him to this world anymore.

Except for one thing.

America.

"You check the washroom, I'll check the kitchen!"

"What exactly would Matthew be hiding in the washroom?"

Alfred shoulders sagged. "Please just check for me."

And because no matter what, even though Alfred was loud and obnoxious, Alfred was still Arthur's colony and Arthur hated to see him so gloomy, so he entered Matthew's washroom, not sure what to look for.

He searched the cabinets, under the sink, in the shower, but nothing. And when he was to inspect the mirror for a hint of something missing, he gasped, and almost jumped. Because in the mirror was his reflection.

And his reflection.

Beside him was him, dressed in clothing he had worn during his privateer days, dressed in that rich blue that was usually stained with crimson red. Green eyes feral, mouth in a scowl. And it was so real, the reflection was so real, he was sure if he turned he would be staring at this past version of himself.

And he turned.

But the only thing there was Matthew's pet bear, Kumajirou, who merely snarled and walked out of the room. That strange thing, walking on two legs, and Arthur was sure that was even capable of speech.

Arthur turned back to the mirror.

The pirate was gone.

He had one last plan.

Arthur held his hands up in surrender, a move that definitely confused both Francis and Antonio. Slowly, he placed his hand in his coat pocket and couldn't help but chuckle at the way Francis and Antonio readily moved into a fighting position.

"You are both so eager to cut me down." He commented, as he drew out a white stuffed polar bear.

Francis eyed it curiously. "The toy your little colony carries around?"

Arthur ignored Francis, his eyes dead set on Antonio."You have a colony of your own, do you not? One that you treasure dearly."

The Spaniard wearily nodded but had understood what it was that Arthur wanted.

Arthur felt his power draining, not just because he was losing his power as a nation, but because he was transferring his very life force. It was a move taught to him long ago, by a warlock, a fairy, a witch, he wasn't really sure. And he wasn't sure he remembered exactly how to do it or if he was doing it correctly, but because he felt himself being sucked out of his body and his vision was becoming dark, he was sure he was doing something right. Soon he was on his knees, and oh the irony, he had promised himself he would never kneel before either of these two. And the two would think nothing of it, they would just believe this is what happened when a great nation fell; this is what happens during the death of a nation.

And the world was becoming cold, which was odd because he was on a burning ship. And he could vaguely feel as Antonio plucked the stuffed bear out of his grasp, and the last words he heard were not even a good bye, not even a, 'you were a great rival.' The last words he heard was from the Spaniard, as he said, "Francis, it would pain me so much to give this to the little colony, I can not bear to see him cry. Will you do it for me?"

"I know where he went."

Both Arthur and Alfred whipped around, surprised at the sound of the voice. Alfred looked at Arthur worriedly, as if thinking, was it just me who heard that?

"I know where he went." Repeated the small white polar bear, reaffirming what both Alfred and Arthur had thought.

Alfred knelt down, so that he was on eye level with the polar bear. "Where did he go?" Alfred asked anxiously.

And then the polar bear turned to Arthur, and pointed with his paw.

"He knows where he went."

Arthur scowled. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

"Do you Arthur?" Alfred questioned, his eyes full of fatigue, his body now sagging from exhaustion. Alfred was lacking his usual lustre.

"I don't, I promise." Arthur really didn't know. He honestly didn't know. How could he know? The only thing he did for the boy was take care of him when he was hurt, because for some reason Matthew had came to Arthur and not Alfred. But Arthur accepted it as a pride thing, because Matthew never wanted to show he was weak around Alfred.

"You do." the polar bear said with a growl, "You just don't remember."

And then it looked as if the polar bear was smiling as it opened its mouth, revealing its full set of sharp teeth.

"I can take you to him."

A/N: I'm still deciding whether or not I'm going to continue this.
But tell me what you think, reviews are always welcomed and loved!