MW: Halleluiah! I'm updating within a reasonable amount of time!

SEK and BFTL: Praise the fanfiction gods!

MW: Yeah, but unfortunately most of this chapter is in third person and I suck at it so it's not that very well written. Oh well, it was too important to leave out anyways.

BFTL: Dup-dup! Hey Wolf, are you going to tell the reader the tumblr story?

SEK: Yeah, it's kind of ironic.

MW: *sigh* Fine. In my free time when I don't want to write, I browse through Hetalia critic blogs on tumblr. One day as I was looking through one that specializes in fanfictions, I found this whole conversation about this story. It wasn't anything bad (mostly) but I was just sitting at my computer awkwardly. Like seriously, what was I supposed to do?

SEK: Thank the lord that you have so many readers that an incident like that is possible?

MW: Right. Thank you to everyone who been reading and commenting (Especially themeowmaster, you were the only one who wished me happy birthday)! We're at so many reviews that I think that I'm going to die again—

SEK and BFTL: DON'T!

MW: . . . yeah, remember to review.

Chapter Summary: Sadiq goes into a long explanation about how everything in this tale came to be.

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Themes (emphasis on this), Yaoi

Disclaimer: Sadly, I still do not own Hetalia. If I did, my crack pairings would be canon.

~Chapter 11~

Gosh Sadiq, You're Life Just Sucks

"Got a little motto, always sees me through:

When you're good to Mama: Mama's good to you.

There's a lot of favors I'm prepared to do.

You do one for Mama, she'll do one for you."

-From "When You're Good to Mama", a song from the American Broadway Production "Chicago"

Real World: Some time Ago

In this strange world was the constant presence of chattering players. Most of them were dressed in the everyday clothes of the normal world, but a vast majority was wearing colorful outfits and fancy wigs. Identification cards dangled from around their necks as they pushed their ways to each attraction- everything from shops, to panels, to other fans like themselves.

This was the city's largest convention center, the site of the last anime con Bella and I attended.

It was a little after three in the afternoon and we were both lingering at the outside quad, butts on the rich grass. We had just finished attending an abridging panel and just wanted some fresh air. She- dressed in a convincing Finland cosplay -quickly flipped through her iPhone messages as I idly looked through the pictures on my camera. Many of them were of Bella with other cosplayers. She made an excellent nation and pretty much everyone who had at least heard of Hetalia wanted a picture with her.

It was when I was checking over a snap shot of her with a Sweden cosplayer (this one was even a guy) when Bella sighed angrily. "Is something wrong?" I asked absently, silently jealous of the attention her cosplay majesty brought. I would cosplay myself, but there were no ginger characters I could pull off.

All of them were skinny with a sex appeal. . .

Bella tiredly placed her phone down and gave me an annoyed look. "Sherry, don't you ever get tired of this?" She asked.

"Tired of what?" Deep inside, I prayed that it was the attention she sought. Yeah, that got tiring long ago.

She motioned to the crowd in front of us. "This. Hetalia."

I put down my phone and gave her a you-got-to-be-kidding-me look. "Are you bored with it?" I asked, irritation pricking my tone. I didn't mind the fact that she was leaving the fandom, not at all, it was just that she would probably make an insulting comment about it and I would then have to kill her.

But lucky for her, the blonde shook her head. "Far from it, it's just . . ." She took a deep breath and looked out once again at the mass of excited nerds and otakus. "Do you ever get tired of the fandoms?"

I blinked. I hadn't seen that coming and I didn't think I had a good reply to it. As I pulled on the grass beneath us, I flipped through my feelings on them. They were really fun- having a group of people who all love the same thing you do, especially the Hetalia one. Once you found your people, you could go on and on about everything you love and hate about it.

But, at the same time, it was the double edged sword. What happened when you didn't find 'your people' was painful. If I, a 'FrUk' shipper, walked into a 'UsUk' shipping group, I would be bombarded with hate. How could I like the pervert? How could I not see how great America and England were together? Did I at least agree with them who the uke or seme were?

I sighed. "I think you're being overly dramatic," I said, trying to return my attention back to the camera. That Sweden cosplayer was really hot. "It's not bad, I mean, we at least have kick ass artwork."

"Watch your language."

"Like I give a fuck."

Bella sighed, taking off her white hat. For an instant, her hand reached under her wig and scratched at the irritated scalp. "That's exactly the problem, Sher-Bear," she said, sounding very much like a lecturing teacher. I rolled my eyes and made a mockful face as she said, "It's as if no one gives a care about it."

"People care, Bel. You're just making a big deal out of nothing."

"It's not nothing." My best friend picked up her phone and started flipping through her saved pages. "Hey, remember that one journal floating around back in April. The France cosplayer one?"

Of course I did. It was a small journal going around deviantArt a while ago. It was a story about how a France cosplayer was at a con when someone knocked them down and harangued them for being a rapist. It pricked a nerve with me since I obviously love his character and he's only a mild pervert. He never forced his love on anyone.

When I told her I did, she started off on her big, poetic rant. "The thing is that people don't care about what others do to the Hetalia name. People like that France hater are the reasons why the Hetalia fandom sucks."

I pressed my lips into a tight, irritated line. I growled, "Alright, Miss Moon, how do we make it un-suck?"

"Respect." She leaned back, looking up at the sky. It was partially cloudy, fluffy white puff drifting over the sun. The beauty ignored my bewildered look as she said, "Every problem in the world can be changed if people only respected one another. But, world peace is slim. Fandom peace can actually happen. If every 'RusAme' shipper respected every 'UsUk' shipper, and every Cuba hater respected every Cuba lover, then we would be a better fandom."

I was silent for a long moment, trying to think of a mature sounding response. Seriously, she was making this difficult. "That can't happen, Bel. Everyone wants to be right. 'Respecting' others is only admitting that you might be wrong."

"That's not true."

"But it is." I fell back onto the grass and raised the camera screen to my face. I started studying an image of the Sweden cosplayer kissing Bella's white cheek. "Just stay away from the people you don't like. Looking at hater profiles is going to ruin everything for you."

She allowed herself a small shrug as she sighed, "I guess you're right . . ."

An awkward silence settled between us. We had another minute of piece before two cosplayers dressed as Canada and Japan wanted to take pictures with her. Like usual, I had to smile and take their pictures for them.

We hadn't talked about it since.

A few months later, I woke up in Seychelles's body.

Cycle 12: Tuesday

"Sherry?" Mumbling, I snuggled closer to my pillow and tried my best to ignore the person trying to wake me. Things in the world were too stressful- give me five more minutes to visit the bliss of the dream land. "Sherry, get up," the voice, a male, asked again. "This is really embarrassing." It wasn't until the hand I had been holding left mine did I remember what was going on.

My eyes slammed open and I realized my surroundings. After waking up to find Sadiq on the floor, I called for help. Nurse Pangaea took him in immediately, telling me that he had a very small concussion. "He's a nation, dear, so once he wakes up he'll be as good as new," she told me, as she had tucked him into the patient's bed in her infirmary.

That had been a little over twenty-four hours ago. The whole time, I never left his side. I pulled up an uncomfortable chair, held his hand, and prayed for my mentor to open his eyes. At one point, Switzerland came in to ban me from the prom, but Nurse Pangaea wrote up an excuse slip and told him to piss off. A few hours later, I fell asleep.

Which brought me to my latest dilemma: my head was lying on a now awake Sadiq's lap. "Well this is awkward," I thought, snapping away with a red face. However, my flustered head cleared when I saw his honey eyes.

They were wide awake, demanding that I explain what had happened and what I was even doing here. For some reason, just looking at his tanned face eased some of my worries. He was alive and here to help me. "Are you alright?" I asked, running my hand through my messed-up hair. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked. ". . . I'm feeling fine," he said, looking down at himself. He seemed to notice for the first time that he was no longer in his school uniform, but one of those hospital sets of pajamas. "What am I doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." His eyes never left me as I explained, "I just woke up yesterday to find you out cold on the floor. And considering what happened before that . . ." I hadn't even realized that I was crying until my voice broke. I buried my face in my palms, sobbing unashamedly. "I was so fucking worried; I thought that you were dead or-"

"Sherry." I felt the Turk place a heavy hand on my shoulder. He rubbed it, trying to quell my shaking form. "There is nothing to be worried about," he calmly stated. Tired, but calm. "The pain happens every cycle."

I looked up at him. "What?"

"Well, you die every cycle and I go through that." We were silent for a long moment. Nurse Pangaea was off looking at her manly porn, paying no heed to what we were doing. "Where are my clothes?" He asked suddenly.

I picked an old Macy's bag off the floor. "They're in here."

"Thanks." As he rummaged through it, he asked, "What day is it?"

Oh no, the part I've been dreading. "Tuesday."

Sadiq paused for a moment, realizing something for the first time. "A whole day?" he muttered, knitting his eyebrows together. "I wasn't even in the Room, so why would it keep me out for so long . . ."

"It could be because this is the last cycle," I hesitantly offered, trying to be helpful. Maybe if I got on his good side now, he wouldn't be so mad at me.

Ding-ding! I got the question right! "That sounds just about right," he said, pulling his uniform pants from the bag. For a moment, I thought that his distracted gaze meant that he was going to leave me alone. "So what progress have you made so far?" And like that, the hope was gone.

When the nervous grin appeared on my visage, Sadiq frown deeply. He said, "Don't tell me that you did nothing."

"I was worried about you!" I defended, placing a hand on my chest. "I thought that you were dead!"

"Idiot! Nations can't die!"

"I do it every week!"

He smacked his forehead. His obvious annoyance made me want to truly smile. It felt like old times- the two of us, hating each other's guts to some degree. Not that I don't like our strange friendship, but there was a pleasant nostalgia to it. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for a long speech. "Sherry, it's true that we die, but we can come back," he said. "It's hard to, but when we're killed another version of us appears to take our place. We're mostly the same- same memories and appearance. But our personality might be slightly different."

"Like Dr. Who?" I prompted. It did sound pretty similar, though the idea of David Tennant version of Sadiq had me giggling.

He only looked confused. "What's that?" Of course.

"It's a British show where-"

"Do I Iook British to you?" I stuck my tongue at him and we returned to a pleasant silence. It was the nice kind you get into with your best friend after a long day at the beach. The car would be humming while you just looked out the window with sun burnt faces. No words needed to be spoken; there was only the appreciation for a day well spent.

Sadiq, unfortunately, did not have the same appreciation I had. He was noisily reaching into his pants pockets searching for something unknown. I rolled my eyes. "What are you looking for?" I asked.

He ignored me. The Turk's face was drawn in concentration until his fingers found the treasure. Relief shone brightly when he pulled out a familiar object. It was the gold pocket watch, dangling from its elegant chain. I blinked. I hadn't seen that in a very long time. I had almost forgotten that it even existed.

Gingerly, Sadiq trailed his fingers over the closed face, studying the texture. His yellow reflection stared back at his haunted eyes.

The question I have been asking since the start of everything came back to me, but this time I had to courage to voice it. "Sadiq, what is that?"

He looked up at me, the haunted look never leaving him. It scared me to think what the answer was. Just as I started to wish I never asked, he clicked the cover open. He presented the egg-white face carefully, showing me the stray hand that now pointed at the twelve- midnight. For a long moment, he was silent, trying to discover a way to explain it to me. A few times, his mouth opened and the words looked ready to come out, but he would only change his mind.

Just as I thought that he was going to push me away, he spoke. "This . . . this is my chain." His what? I didn't have to understand what he meant to hear the pain. The words were full of a hidden suffering I never knew him to have.

They broke my heart. I reached out to give him the comforting hand he gave me. "Sadiq . . ."

He shook his head and brushed me away. "Sherry, there are things that I never told you. At first I told myself that it was to protect the helpless girl I got mixed up in all of this, but I was just lying to myself." Yeah, Seychelles was the one to drag me into this. "I never told you because . . ." He took a long breath. "Because I was afraid."

I asked, "Are you no longer-"

"No, I'm more scared than ever." The brunette handed me the watch, pressing it deep into my hands. His eyes were looking at the bed sheets when he said, "But by not saying anything, I was just trying to convince myself that what happened never did. And now, I just . . . I just need to tell someone or else I'm afraid that I'm going to break again."

I took a hand away from the watch and placed it on his cheek. His stubble seemed thicker than usual, maybe because of his day knocked out. "I promise that no matter what, I'll be here," I told him, trying to offer comfort.

But a smile never graced his lips. Sadiq brushed me away and leaned into his pillow. He took a deep breath, gathering the memories together. "It all started around a year ago, around the time the school first opened. . ."

Sadiq's Past: One Year Ago

"I don't have any money to give you," Estonia pleaded, looking up at the person who he called his superior: Russia. There really wasn't anything threatening by what the Russian said- he had just wanted to borrow some money so that he could buy a nice bouquet for the man he wanted to ask out. But the Baltic was so wrapped up in his days in the Soviet Union that he was trembling in fear.

Turkey understood this completely. He spied on them from a nearby corner, waiting for a moment to strike. Unlike Switzerland, he took the time to understand what was going on before he made a move. The problem was that if he didn't make a move soon, the cheese face was going to appear and his whole plan was going to be ruined.

With a sigh, he reluctantly made his presence known. "Russia . . ." He turned the corner, threateningly glaring at the two ex-Soviets. They looked at him: one with relief, the other with indifference.

The indifferent one smiled the best he could. "Hello Comrade Turkey," he greeted happily. He cute look on his face made Turkey shiver. Even he thought that Russia was scary, not that he would ever let anyone know that. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can." He looked between the two men again, deciding on the best way to solve this. Estonia obviously wanted to get away, but Russia obviously wanted him to stay. Decisions, decisions . . . "I just wanted you to know that Hungary's lending money to all the gay guys," he stated plainly. "I don't know why- it's just part of her freakish fetish or something."

Russia smiled and at last turned away from his victim. "Thank you for telling me that, comrade," he said, walking past them. "I shall make sure to take advantage of that offer. Good bye!" His heavy steps echoed around the halls as he walked further and further away. It wasn't until they were mere muffles did Estonia breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you so much, Turkey," he said, beaming brightly at the man. "Is there anything I can-"

He shook his head. "It was nothing. Now go before-"

"Turkey!"

The Baltic State had enough sense to scamper away before the gun went off. But when it did, Turkey only grinned and turned to face the storming Swiss. "I was wondering where you were!" He called out cockily, ignoring the fact that Switzerland had roughly grabbed the collar of his shirt.

Angry green eyes met his, daring him to make another sound. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Switzerland growled, ignoring the stray blond hairs in his face. "This is my job, not yours."

His smirk never left him when he placed a delicate hand on his attacker's chin. "What's wrong, Switzy?" He asked mischievously, quirking his eyebrows. "All I want is just a little attention from my boyfriend."

For a few seconds, his love said nothing. He only continued to glare up at him stubbornly. But he could not resist any longer. He reached up and placed a hard kiss on the Turkey's lips. Like always, Turkey tasted like sweet apple juice. "You're an idiot," He muttered, wrapped his arms around the other's neck. "If you wanted attention, you could have just asked."

The brunette chuckled, pressing his love closer to him. "Asking isn't very romantic," he said, before deepening their kiss. Mouths opened and tongues fought for dominance with no avail.

Head spinning so fast, Switzerland nearly didn't notice when his boyfriend was pushing him into the nearest empty classroom. He nonchalantly kicked the door close behind him and pressed Turkey into the nearest wall. "I'm topping," he said, already pulling off the other's blazer.

The Mediterranean nation laughed, reaching for the Swiss's belt. "No, I am. This is a science classroom," he stated. "And we agreed that I get to top if we're in a lab."

"We also agreed back in 1750 that-" They kissed again. "-No one can top twice in a row."

Turkey rolled his eyes. "Ugh, fine." They broke apart as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. "Heads or tails?"

The blonde started to finish the job of pulling off his plaid pants. "Heads." The coin was thrown high in the air and landed with a clink on the wood floor. They both look down at it- one grinned, the other scowled. "Fine, you win." Switzerland laid on the floor and allowed his longtime boyfriend and hover on top of his. "But next time, I get to dominate."

Due to the fact that this is, in fact, not a lemon fanfiction and the writer is a full-fledged Catholic, you guys will be spared the pleasure of getting a steamy sex session (no worry guys, I'm doing this for your own good). I can, however, skip to the post sex cuddling talk that a lot of reader insert writers seem to forget to write.

Laying on the ice cold floors, Turkey affectionately played with the ends of his boyfriend's blond locks. He loved to mess around with them- maybe it was his normal side that still yearned for a woman's touch. Doubt it, but that man's hair was very feminine. Pressing his face into his scalp, he smiled. "Hey Switzy."

Switzerland snuggled- in a manly way, mind you -closer to the Turk's warm, toned chest. "Hmm?"

"What do you think would happen if we weren't countries?"

Switzerland turned to him, eyebrows pushed together, asking, "What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's was just a small thought."

A soft sigh left his lips. "Well if you think that we're going to live some sort of Titanic fairytale, you are completely wrong." Switzerland danced the tips of his fingers along the strong arm wrapped around him, saying, "I guess my name would be Vash- a lot of people inside of me seemed to be named that."

Turkey kissed his forehead. "Well if we're giving ourselves names, I'm going to be Sadiq. Sadiq Adnan. And-" he squeezed him harder, nearly breaking the other's ribs. "-we'll live together with Cyprus and Liechtenstein as our children. We'll be Sadiq and Vash Adnan."

"Hold on! Who said that I was the wife?"

"I did. My new last name sounds amazing with your's."

He flushed. "That's because you didn't give me a chance to choose my own!" The Swiss practically shrieked. "It's going to be Zwingli."

Turkey smirked. "You're still the wife."

Switzerland could not help himself but to crack up laughing. "You're unbelievable, Sadiq!" He exclaimed, clutching his sides.

Two brows were raised. "Are these going to be our new pet names?" His grin grew wider. "I like it, Vash."

They kissed again. Since their hook-up back in the 1700s (give or take a few centuries), the two men have been inseperatable. Neither of them could remember how they survived without of the other. The men found a sense of security in each other. A security from love.

Three months passed with no new developments. Everything at the school was in place- that is, except for the near suicide attempt by Germany, but that is a different story. Valentine's day was around the corner and love for every couple was in the air. Like literally, it was rumored that France and England spiked the air with some sort of love potion.

Turkey had his own plans to surprise his longtime love. He had the ingenious plan of bringing him a bouquet of bright white edelweiss. He had to sneak off campus to do so, but getting yelled at by Principle Pangaea was well worth the surprise he'll see on Switzerland's face when he gives them.

Whistling "My Heart Will Go On", he strutted down the hallway with a sense of pride. The air around him was as cocky as most would expect. At first, there was nothing that appeared out of the ordinary. Couples were kissing and bringing the hormone levels onto a high. But then, he started to notice the sympathetic gazes of every person he met. Turkey lost his air and felt his heart drop. Something was very wrong.

Seeing a comforting face, the man quickened to a jog. "Hey Kid!" Iceland turned to him, his face immediately flashing with sympathy. "What's going on?"

The silver haired man bit his lip and held his puffin closer to his chest. He hesitantly asked, "Pops, you don't know?" A small shook of the head made him nervously bit his lip. "Oh Pops, I'm so sorry."

Ten minutes later, he was in the infirmary, holding the hand of the man he loved. Switzerland laid in one of the beds, eyes closed and tubes coming from his arms and nose. "We don't know what happened," Nurse Pangaea said, sounding comforting for once. "Miss Liechtenstein just found him like this." A hand found its way onto his shoulder. "His body isn't going to make it, dear. Switzerland is dying."

Turkey didn't say anything, only pressed his lips to the limp hand's finger. The woman eventually gave up and left him alone. Nations can't die forever- Switzerland can come back. But he would never be exactly the same. His personality might be slightly different and it was such a slight chance that they ended up together in the first place.

He didn't want to think of a world where his Switzerland didn't love him.

"Please don't die," he whispered, feeling his eyes grow heavy with tears. "Please." There was no response, only the steady beeping of the heart monitor. His heart fell, causing a hoarse sob to ring through his throat. "I wish you'll live."

A dizzy feeling overcame him and the world around him faded into a black sleep.

What felt like milliseconds afterwards, Turkey's honey eyes were opening to a world of white. His head felt muffled- as if there was something preventing his mind from thinking properly. But slowly, everything started to process.

He was sitting on a white chair, in a white glossed room, wearing starched white clothes. The sheer brightness of it all made his head hurt. "The hell . . ." He slowly stood, relieved to find that his legs still worked. "Hello?" He called, pacing in a small circle. "Is anyone there?"

"Welcome, Turkey." He jumped, head shooting to every corner of the room. Where was that voice coming from? "Please don't bother- I'm not anywhere near you."

"Who are you?" The nation asked, eyes still searching for the answer. "Where the hell am I?"

The Voice gave a light laugh, saying, "You may call me whatever you want, Turkey. But this room is my domain. You're here because I just might be able to help you."

Turkey's back found one of the walls. They felt cold, dead even. "Help me with what?"

This time, the laugh sounded full of hidden mocking. "With your little problem, of course. Look." Suddenly, pooling at his feet, was an image of Switzerland lying unresponsive in the hospital bed. Turkey felt a hand tighten around his heart. How badly he wanted to see his love's smiling face again . . .

"How?" he asked, unable to pull his eyes away.

If he had a clearer head, he might have sensed the smirk in the Voice's tone. "We make a little contract, Turkey," it explained. "In return for your boyfriend's life, you'll give me something worth a life."

"Like what?"

"Your soul." Turkey unconsciously placed a hand over his chest. It clicked in his head immediately what was going on: this was a deal with the devil. If he did this, something bad was going to happen to him. Then who would be there for the new Switzerland? "Remember, Sadiq-" A contract and pen appeared on the floor next to Switzerland's image. "-He doesn't have much time left." Turkey felt his resolve melt. What if the new version hates him? That happened to Russia back in the day. "You're the only one who can save him."

That did it. "You have to promise that nothing bad will happen to him," Turkey said, taking the pen off the ground. "If anyone is going to be hurt in this, it's going to be me, got it?"

There was a silence, as if the Voice had to think it over. But, at last, the final chuckle rang through the air. "You have my word."

His eyes scanned the contract: a series of small black text put together in a secure contract. Years of dealing with lawmakers allowed him to easily scan them and understand what was required. He just had to listen to this guy and do whatever he said. That sounded easy enough. Turkey quickly scribbled his name on the bottom line.

The next thing he knew, his eyes were opening to the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor. For a moment, Turkey could not recall anything that happened. Maybe, it had all been one crazy dream. But then, the sweet noise of a moan reached his ears.

"W-what's going on?" Switzerland muttered, lifting a heavy hand to his forehead. His green eyes drifted downwards to see his love's head on his lap. " . . . The hell?" Turkey smiled, feeling him nudged his head. He was alive. "Hey, what are you-"

Turkey jumped up and planted a passionate kiss on the other's lips. Everything about the Voice was forgotten in the relief and happiness of having his alive again. The world was good again.

But it was only for a moment- Switzerland wasn't kissing him back. Slowly, the brunette pulled away, looking at him expectantly. Maybe he was going a little too fast for him. . .

"Creep!" Turkey gasped, feeling a hot red sting on his cheek. His hand reached for the area as his brain tried to register what had happened. Did Switzerland just slaphim? The blond was fiercely wiping his hand over his mouth, complaining, "Oh my God, I can't believe you just fucking did that!"

The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "What do you mean?"

"You just kissed me!" The blond snapped, jabbing a finger into a chest. "You- a complete stranger -just kissed me!" It was as if the world around him just shattered.

A deal with the devil . . .

Desperately, Turkey grabbed his shoulders and lightly shook them. "I'm Turkey- your boyfriend!" he exclaimed. "We've been together since the pirate days! You love me, Vash!"

"Get the fuck away from me!" The Swiss's hand pressed onto his chest- right over the heart -and shoved him away. Turkey fell out of his stool and landed sharply on his ass. He was stunned, too scared to move. His deal back fired.

Switzerland, his love, was alive again, but he didn't remember the man he spent centuries loving. The Voice promised that no one but Turkey would be hurt and have no doubt, he was hurt.

Badly.

Nurse Pangaea finally noticed that her patient was awake and promptly kicked the ex-boyfriend out into the cold hall. Determined, Turkey came back multiple times to try and convince Switzerland that they knew each other, but the hatred only grew worse. One day, months later, even Turkey was starting to hate Switzerland as much as he loved him. Any mention of him made the Turk growl out a series of curses. The school eventually learned to just pretend that the relationship never happened. Eventually, Turkey just shook his head and gave up.

The Voice had won.

For another month, he sulked. Every possible moment he could, he sat at the bar and drowned his sorrows in heavy alcohol. The hard reality that there was a life without Switzerland was hitting him hard in the face. Occasionally, people like Japan and Iceland tried to get him back into the social life, but he always refused. "Why should I?" He would demand. "There's just no fucking point."

That is, until someone else offered their condolences. "Hey Turkey!" Poland chirped one night, giddily taking a seat on the empty stool next to him. It was late in the night; the bar was only occupied by them and the rest of the night birds. "How are you?"

Turkey groaned. "What do you want, Poland?" he asked harshly, bringing his drink to his lips. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

The blond smiled and shook his head. His locks seemed to sway in perfect synchronization. It only made Turkey sick; they looked too much like Switzerland's for his liking. "You are, like, the better thing to do!" The happy one exclaimed.

Turkey choked. "'What?"

"I noticed that you've been, like, totally moody lately," Poland said, placing a comforting hand on his back. "So I decided to help you and stuff!"

He rolled his eyes and hopped out of the chair. "Thanks, but I got better things to do."

He had barely walked three steps when the Pole piped up again. "I got the Titanic." Turkey paused in his tracks. "I also got two gallons of chocolate ice cream in my dorm," the blonde continued, twirling his hair absently. "If you want, we could, like, make a night of it."

The brunette hesitated. He didn't want a relationship with anyone at the moment. In fact, he just wanted to get away from people in general. Being alone was the smart thing to do. But it was the Titanic and there was going to be sweet, sweet ice cream. When was the last time he did anything fun?

"Alright, jackass, you win," Turkey grumbled, trying not to sound excited at the thought of the James Cameron flick. "But just this once, got it?" Poland grinned and nodded.

But the thing about Poland was that with him, nothing ever turned out the way they should. Day after day, he would hunt down the Mediterranean and ask him to join him in some crazy scheme. "Let's go paint to gym lockers pink!" He said one day. "Let's change the clock tower back to daylight savings time and screw everyone up!" He would exclaim the other.

Turkey didn't know what happened. One moment, he loathes the man and the next his heart flutters whenever he sees him. But it was not until Poland had given him a sparkling pink scarf (one, that he immediately regarded as valuable as gold) did he realize it.

He was, as that one song so tactfully put it, "accidentally love." And the strange thing was, he didn't care. For the first time in a long time, Sadiq felt happy. He hada reason to get up in the morning and reason was Poland.

But if you take an eye, you must pay with an eye.

Poland and Turkey had been officially dating for a few months when it happened again. The brunette opened his eyes to the stunning whiteness. As he told Sherry about it, Turkey admitted that the first thing he felt was fear. He had no need to remember the Voice and his bargain until the dawn of its consequences.

But when it came, it came hard. Turkey, in his white starched clothes, jumped to the closed door and tried to yank it open. Panic blazed through his blood as he sought a way to free himself from this nightmare. But, like always, the lock refused to give. "What's wrong?" A booming voice asked. Turkey froze, suddenly feeling a cold hand wrapped around his neck. "Are you scared, Turkey?"

He grimaced, trying to forget the cold grip on him. "I'm not scared," he lied. The glossed walls reflected the Voice's form back at him. If he remembered clearly, he wasn't allowed to look back at him and frankly, he couldn't command his body to. "I just want out of here."

"But, Turkey, we have a deal," the Voice innocently said. Innocent, but mocking. "I brought your love back to you-"

A long irritated nerve was pricked. "You killed the Switzerland that I knew!" The single man shouted. "He didn't even remember me- you broke our contract!"

"No I didn't. I gave you what you wanted, but you lost what you had. Sadiq, I have been very generous-"

"Don't you fucking call me that!" Turkey swatted the hand away and found the courage to face the devil. But before he could even get a glimpse of its face, he was on the floor, chest pressed onto the cold, cold floor. The fear he did his best to deny returned again.

The Voice placed its boot on his back, bending down until it was close to his face. "Remember that contract you signed?" it asked, speaking softly into his ear. "It stated that you can never look at me and can never disobey me. As far as I'm concerned, you are doing both."

The man lifted his face off the floor, spitting, "I refuse to obey a monster like you!"

The Turk's am shot up into the air at an awkward angle. He yelled, feeling his shoulder dislocated. What was happening? Why couldn't he control his body? The cause for it- the Voice -made him stretch his arm as far as he could. It was taking out a long harbored anger on him. From what, the nation couldn't say, but it wasn't satisfied until his arm popped out of his socket.

Turkey's painful screaming brought it back to reality. With one simple thought, his arm was released and it fell limply at his side. For a moment, it was silent. "What is he thinking?" Turkey wondered, feeling his shoulder ache vividly. "What was that all about?"

At last, it spoke. "I like you Sadiq," it said evenly, as if it was not the cause of its victim's previous pain. "I like you a lot. I just want you to be happy. So, even with everything you've done, I believe that I can reach an agreement with you." The Voice seemed to bend down closer as it whispered, "See here, I created this world for the enjoyment of my own. There are millions of people in a parallel universe who know every nation's face."

Turley rolled his eyes, saying, "Yeah right. Next you'll tell me that Poland hates the color pink."

"Take this seriously," The other ordered. "This might be your last chance for freedom." That was enough to silence him. "Anyways, the people of this universe have a particular hatred of Seychelles. You know her, right?" Turkey frowned. The only thing he really knew about her was that she stopped Germany from killing himself. She and him lived in two different social circles and barely spoke. "Well I want to give a certain hater the lesson of a lifetime."

The plan was explained. A normal human girl would be possessing Seychelles's body until she can learn what it was like to be her. This would be proven when she can get France or England to prove their love by a kiss. They had until midnight of the prom to do it until the cycle repeated itself. "And you have only twelve tries," The Voice finished.

Turkey pressed his lips together. "And what do I get in return?" he asked.

"Your soul." That was enough to seal the deal and the Voice knew it. "Here." From wherever, it pulled out a golden pocket watch. "Here's a little something to remember me by," it said, placing it on the floor by Turkey's face. "It'll tell you what cycle you're on." It removed its foot, allowing him to sit up. The moment he did, a new contract appeared. "Sign it."

This time, Turkey read the whole thing carefully, noting everything he didn't like. The dying part really didn't seem very pleasant to him, but it was something else that caused him to frown. What if he was repeating last cycle's mistake? "You cannot drag Poland into this," he said. "You cannot lay a finger on him."

The tight frown could clearly be heard in its tone. "Done."

The text guaranteeing it appeared and Turkey scratched his name on the bottom. The contract and disappeared and a rush a dread overcame him. "What did I just do?" He wondered, taking the watch off the ground. It was way heavier than it looked. The Turk turned it easily in his hands before realizing something. The delicate gold chain was connected to his wrist. . .

Like a shackle.

Turkey's heart dropped as he quickly threw the thing away. But the chain kept it- him -at bay. "Do you like it?" The Voice asked, physical form disappearing. "I thought that it'd add a nice touch."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find a proper response. This watch symbolized the deal, his imprisonment. It laughed again, voice bouncing around the walls. "Good luck, Sadiq!"

The nation's consciousness slipped away and he felt himself drift in a black sleep for what felt like a long time. It was like sleep- his whole being was comfortably numb. Everything from his skin to his mind. He never wanted it to end. Eventually, his eyes opened to the clean dorm of Seychelles.

Cycle one had started.

"You can do this, Turkey," The man thought, feeling a new weight in his pocket. It was the watch.

At first, as he waited for the alarm to go off, he did his best to take in his surroundings. When the pictures of beaches and pallid walls became well engraved in his brain, he faced the facts. If he was going to get his soul back, he needed a plan. "Hopefully, this girl wouldn't be too much of an idiot." He sighed, rolling his still aching shoulder. Yes, it hurt but at least it was back in its socket. "At least we have all our classes together and I can look over her."

For the next few minutes, he ran over everything he knew about France and England, trying to figure out a loophole she could slip through. But deep inside, he knew that he was just avoiding the inevitable. He had to look at the watch.

Slowly, he drew the golden watch from his pocket. When it wasn't in that room, it didn't seem half as intimidating- the chain wasn't ominously connecting to his wrist. "It's just a watch," he told himself, opening the cover of the moon-white clock face. A small smirk traveled up his face. He wasn't afraid of it.

In a way, it didn't have to represent his imprisonment. It could represent how he was brave and fearless to the thing that tried to oppress him. He could actually do this.

"What the hell!" Turkey did his best to hide his token as he searched for the source of the problem. The girl (Seychelles?) was awake and taking her first look at herself. He stared at her. Crap, she was even more scared than him. "The least I can do is pretend that I know what I'm doing,"

Taking a deep breath, he placed a cool composure on his face and quickly ordered, "Do not scream." He took a deep breath. He was doing well so far. "Turn around and face me, Seychelles." He waited for a few moments, waiting for the girl to look him straight in the eye. The only problem was that she stood stock still. He took another breath. She was panicking, remember? He had to be the strong one here. With a strong will, he ordered again, "I said, turn around, Seychelles."

From there on, everyone knows what happened. He did his best to sound in control of the situation as he explained to this strange girl, Sherry Sue, everything that was going on. But she was distraught to the point where bungee jumping with a broken cord could seem like a good idea.

But it wasn't until the whole "what the hell is shea butter" incident did he suddenly realize something. In every nation's eyes was a glint of knowing- a tone developed from living for so long. Sherry didn't have it. Seychelles's eyes were wide and full of nativity. She truly was just an ordinary girl. As he dragged her to History Teacher Pangaea's class, he couldn't help but to feel his hatred for the Voice increase.

There was no justification for this child to be here. That monsterprobably chose her for that very reason. Another way to mess Turkey up.

Just as he came upon the classroom door, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. He stopped, cursing, "Damnit, late." For a moment, he straightened his blue plaid pants and fixed his hoodie and scarf. "Remember, no one knows about this except us," he reminded, feeling the watch bounce around his pocket. "So I have to start calling you Seychelles now, got it?"

Sherry nodded. He let loose the smallest of smiles- that is, until, "Sure, but can I call you Sadiq?"

Turkey stared at her. The moment Switzerland and him chose that name came flooding back. No one but Switzy called him that. It was something precious between the two of them. But if he was to deny her that pleasure, he would have to explain why and frankly, he wasn't ready. He wanted to keep everything that happened between his ex-boyfriend deep in the past, as far away from the present as possible. So he relented, saying, "Um, sure, but not in public."

He said one last explanation before letting her go inside. As he watched her go, he could not help but to feel his heart drop, because . . .

Cycle 12: Tuesday

". . . You just seemed like a little girl," Sadiq finished, uncomfortably twisting the sheets on him. He was frowning, but it was not his usual annoyed one. No, this one was just the dictionary definition of sorrow. It was as if every inch of him was covered with it; everything from his trembling hands to his honey eyes.

I watched him with a dead tongue. I wanted to say something to him: a condolence or a sign that I understood why he did it, but no words came to me. He didn't wait for them though, only gave up on the sheets and placed his free hands over his face. "I'm sorry," he muttered for what felt like the millionth time. "I should have just gone with the contract- you had nothing to do with this, Sherry, you shouldn't even be here."

I scooted forward in my stool, enough so that I could comfortably place my hands on his shoulders. Trying to comfort him, I said the first thing that came to my mind: "Are you kidding? I'm in freaking Hetalia, I'm having the time of my life!" Can I get the merit badge for insensitivity? It was so bad that my chirpy grin was removed by the defeated glare he gave me.

A frown appeared on my visage. Okay, humor wasn't what was going to get him to calm down. I bit my lip, trying to figure out what would. Perhaps, I could try the daughterly love thing again. I mean, it only failed last time because he was in panic mode. Maybe now it would work.

Gently, I rubbed his shoulders, in hushed tones telling him to quell his fears. "Remember what I told you earlier?" I asked. "About the love thing?" I felt him stiffen under my grip, but when he said nothing, I took it as the green light to continue. "It's as true then as it is now. Sadiq, you know what I think of my father, you understand what you mean to me then, right?"

"Then I make a terrible father," he replied solemnly. "With everything I did to you."

"Your freaking soul was on the line; I would have done the exact same thing."

We were silent for a long moment. I rubbed his upper arms and he looked down guiltily. Multiple times, he started to open his mouth, but quickly closed it again. I tried not to give him an expectant look, but I didn't have to wait long anyways. "I love you like a daughter," he confessed, slowly forcing the words from his mouth. A remote corner of my mind reminded me of Seychelles's own feelings, but I quickly shoved them away when he started talking again.

"I've been afraid of loving anyone, ever since . . ." He stopped himself, tanned face turning a dead white. But, he pushed on. "But I'm done with hiding." He peeled my hands away and looked me straight in the eye. "Sherry, I want you to remember everything that I am about to tell you." Sadiq's eyes were blazing with an unspoken fury that complimented his determined tone. "The jackass- the Voice -I know what its name is."

Immediately, I asked, "Well what is it?"

"Hidekaz Himaruya."

I tried not to explode, but let's face it, you are probably also flipping out right now. "Himaruya!" I screeched, feeling my mind blown into smithereens. "Holy fucking shit!" Sadiq was giving me his surprised/confused look, occasionally stealing a glance at Nurse Pangaea. And she hasn't noticed our commotion why? "That's just- Oh my God, I did not see that coming!"

"Does that name mean something to you?" my mentor worriedly asked. I vaguely noticed his fingers lightly petting the watch.

Somehow, I was able to calm myself long enough to speak coherent words- not Tumblr speech (aka: asklkl;djie!) -to give him a shotgun explanation. "Himaruya is the creator of Hetalia," I exclaimed. "He made this world." As his eyes grew wide, my own words started to sink in. "Oh my God, it makes perfect sense. He would be the one to have power over everything. And he would care about Seychelles and-" I noticed the pained look on Sadiq's face as he clutched his head.

Anxiety griped me. "Hey, are you alright?" I asked, fretting over his being. "Are you feeling alright?"

He grimaced, shaking his head. "I feel dizzy," he breathed, wincing at my loud voice. "I'm going back to the room." I started to open my mouth, begging to find a miracle way of escape when he shook his head. "I have faith in you, Sherry." He smirked. "Go get that fucking kiss."

His eyes fluttered closed and he lay back in the bed- apparently asleep. But I knew better, he was going off to face his worst nightmare. A new sense of loyalty made me suck my gut in and raise my chin high. Sadiq broke one of the rules for me- why? I have no freaking clue. But he trusted me with the information, and now I had to prove to him that I could use it wisely.

Before setting off, I readjusted his pillow and made sure he was comfortable. I brushed his hair and found myself smiling. "Good luck," I whispered, hand drifting to the pocket watch. I squeezed it tightly before slipping the heavy object into my skirt pocket.

The weight now burdened me, not him.

Cycle 12: The Room

Turkey took in a sharp breath. He was back and no doubt, Himaruya would be pissed. But, as he sat on the white chair, the memories of what happened last time returned to him. Even now, he could feel that cold kiss on his lips. It made him feel dirty, disgusting even.

Enveloped on that feeling, the nation jumped from his seat and to the nearest corner. He pressed his back against the cold wall and scanned the space of the room. His racing heart calmed. There was no way Himaruya could approach him without giving away its face. Now, it couldn't touch him.

"What are you doing, Sadiq?" Himaruya asked, booming voice bouncing off all four walls. His only response was a glare aimed at the ceiling. The creator laughed. "You really are foolish, do you really think that a corner is going to stop me?" Turkey felt the wall behind him expand a few yards and, with his support removed, he fell back harshly. The moment his back made contact with the white floors, a foot was placed on his cheek, forcing him to look to the side. That gross numb feeling returned- the feeling of having no control over himself. All Turkey could do was look at the wall.

The glossed reflection, like always, showed the gentleman-like owner of the voice standing over him. "Have you forgotten that this is my world?" Himaruya demanded, losing its tone of eternal pleasure. "I can change whatever I want, that includes the size of this room."

Turkey didn't reply, only focus on the reflection.

A low 'tsk', followed by increase weight on his cheek made him wince. Still, he refused to say anything.

Now was the time to stop being this thing's doormat.

Now was the time to be brave.

"I am very disappointed in you, Sadiq," it said, still trying to hit the nerve. Again, silence. "I set some very simple set of rules, yet you refuse to abide by them."

"Your 'rules' are your way of appearing all grand and powerful," Turkey growled, furrowing his eyebrows together. "I know who you are now, Himaruya. You're just an ordinary person. This place is the only place where you have power. You go anywhere else and you're just as weak as I am."

The foot seemed to grow heavier as it bent down to his face. Cold breath danced around the edges of his ear as it whispered, "But you're forgetting, this is the only place you exist." He felt lips brush against his cheek. "I am the one with the power."

Honey eyes went wide when he felt the lips actually press against his skin. All the hairs on his back and neck pricked up and he felt his blood run colder than the North Sea. But, among all the fear that lied in the small contact, there was a fire of hatred burning.

As Himaruya moved his kisses along the Turk's jaw line, a compulsive spark ignited. Turkey flexed his fingers, feeling his control slowly returned. But, it was only when he felt the lips kiss the nape of his neck did the fire possess his whole being.

He shot his hand to Himaruya's face and shoved him back. It had a moment to realize that his control was gone before Turkey's revived legs kicked it hard in the chest. It flew back to the wall and the nation lunged at it. His hands clamped tightly around its neck.

Triumph made the sugar in his blood increase. At that moment, it the consequences of his actions didn't matter. "I did it!" He thought victoriously, panting through gritted teeth. "I won."

It tasted as sweet as honey.

That is, until he saw the face.

Himaruya grinned at him, mimicking the cocky look Turkey used to always wear. "Surprised?" It asked, unphased by the hands around his throat. Slowly, but surely, they peeled away and went dead at Turkey's sides. The only thing the man could manage was to stare. That face. . . that was impossible. "I can presume by your visage that you did not expect to see me."

There was a brief moment of silence as everything processed. "H-how can it be you?" He whispered, too stunned to think coherently. "H-how can it be . . . all this time, it was you? How?"

"Don't worry-" Himaruya affectionately cupped his cheeks. "-You'll have plenty of time to think it over."

"What do you mean?"

It brought its face closer to his. "This is your punishment for breaking the rules," it whispered, lifting itself closer. "You're going to be stuck here for the rest of the cycle." Its lips drew closer. "Just you and-"

"No!" Turkey shoved him back down, standing on his shaking legs. His calloused hands were trembling for the fear of what was coming. "I never agreed to this!" He shouted frantically.

Himaruya smirked. "You didn't have to," it replied coolly. "At this point, with you continually breaking your side of the deal, the contract can no longer be considered void unless you face the punishment for it. Unless-"It mockingly pouted. "-You want to risk good, little Poland-pooh getting hurt."

Turkey, for a moment, felt defeated. He could never let his boyfriend- wait a second. "How do I remember that?" he suddenly asked himself, placing a hand on his forehead. His fear seemed to increase tenfold. "Shouldn't I hate him?"

"Oh, France's hypnotism undid itself at the end of the cycle," it explained, observing its nails casually. "An unfortunate undoing to your ingenious plan." The brunette stared at the floor. His reflection, it seemed, looked back up at him, demanding that he did something to stop it. He had to do something- he knew that for sure- he just didn't know what.

Rising to its feet, Himaruya stuck its hands into its pockets. "Well, I believe that we are done here-"

"No. We're not." It paused and looked back at Turkey. Clenched fist seemed to shake with unspoken furry. The creator raised an eyebrow, intrigued to where this was going. In a low voice, he hissed, "I refused to leave that girl there alone."

It shrugged. "Well, you'll have too-"

"No I won't!" Turkey glared at him, the fire spreading into his honey orbs. "She's a normal girl in an abnormal situation. She's probably just as scared as I am! I refuse to leave her there!"

"So you are scared of me." He froze, sweat turning a frigid cold. Did he really just say that? Himaruya frowned at him, walking towards him steadily. Turkey should have resisted- his whole body was screaming to, but his arms felt dead. He wasn't being controlled; he was just being afraid. It placed a hand on his chest, saying, "The last thing in the world I want is for you to do that, okay?"

He was answered by silence.

Himaruya wrapped its arms around him, pressing himself close to his heart. "But luckily, we now have all the time in the world to remedy that."

Never before has Turkey felt so afraid and helpless.

If only he could leave this place through the open window that mocked his want for freedom.

Cycle 12: Tuesday

"How the hell does Sadiq even walk with this damn thing?" I thought as I tried to make my way to the student council room. But that was pretty hard to do when the damn watch was setting off your center of balance, causing you to crash into every student that came your way. "Maybe since he's bigger, it doesn't affect him half as much. Yeah, I'll-" And there I went, crashing into a random-ass student! Any guesses to whom it was?

"Seychelles, where have you been?" Germany demanded, placing his giant hands on my small shoulders. It was as if gravity decided to return to normal again and I could stand without falling over.

I would have smiled, but there was a solemn look on the blonde's face. That was strange- this was usually the part where he scolded me for acting so weird. So, why did he look so upset? Hesitantly, I asked, "Germany, is something wrong? What happened?"

He took a deep breath, gathering his words. "Seychelles, I need to talk to you." I gave him the right away look, thinking that this was just going to be the routine dance. Only it wasn't. "Seychelles, I think we should break up."

In my head, I was racing to figure out the reason why. What the hell did I do? Was he going to kill himself again? The whole school probably heard me when I exclaimed, "What? Why?"

"I just feel as though we're just too different for each other," he confessed, sounding a bit guilty. I studied his tone carefully. He didn't sound as though he was going to commit suicide, but I wasn't a therapist, what did I know? "Plus, I think I'm . . ."

I sighed and nudged him further. "You're what, Germany?"

"I think I'm gay." I wondered vaguely if America and Denmark were in the area because only those two could possibly make my brain explode the amount it did. It was so scrambled that I could only gape. Germany scratched the back of his nervously, saying, "And I think that I have a crush on France."

I ran.

Without a single thought, my legs sped down the hall, taking me away. I ignored Germany when he called out for me. My heart hammered against my chest. Panic was the source of my adrenalin. This . . . this was never happened before. In every single cycle, Germany has always been straight. So what changed? What did I do wrong?

The problem was, I did nothing wrong.

Sadiq was at fault.

"He told me too much," I realized, going up a wood staircase. My hip banged into the rail, but I ignored it as I turned a sharp corner. "And now Himaruya is changing things." My sweat turned cold. "The game's changing."

I hadn't even realized where I was until I saw the large door of the student council room before me. Why did I run here? I would have figured that I would have escaped to someplace a bit more remote, like the clock tower. My feet started to drift towards that direction when a thought occurred to me.

If Himaruya could change the game plan, why couldn't I?

I threw my courage to the sticking place and headed back to the door. Pushing it open, I stepped into the sea of books to see France and England trying to clean up. They had a moment to register that I was there before I said, "Hello, my name is Sherry Sue and I'm kind of possessing your daughter's body."

MW: Face it, none of you guys saw that coming! I deserve a medal for this one!

SEK: Wolf. . .

MW: Sorry. But seriously guys, for most of the story, I've been getting theory after theory on who the voice was. And only ONE person got Himaruya.

BFTL: Tis true. Here's a quick list of people choices: England, Gary Sue, Iceland (this was a popular one), France (this one too), Seychelles, Switzerland, and Bella Moon.

Good job peeps.

MW: Also NekoPockyBoxz pointed out something that isn't part of the satire, but I still feel is worth mentioning: she "found it Ironic the Seychelles now hates Sherry for being, 'Perfect'. You know, because that is why Sherry hated Seychelles at first."

And remember to review!

Funfacts:

"When You're Good to Mama" This is the official theme song of Himaruya. Go listen to the lyrics and see what I mean.

Next Chapter: The game changed, Sherry now has to deal with trying to get the kiss before the end of the Prom.

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