MW: Hey guys. If you're still reading this, then welcome to the eleventh chapter. I would like thank Hammsters and Devin Trinidad for reviewing. Yeah, let's take an opportunity to just go over something real quickly.

Fanfiction is an entertainment industry. I write them because I want to entertain the people of this fandom. The only way I know if I'm doing my job right is if people tell me. The only way I know what people want is if they tell me. If I need to change something you don't like, I am not going to know unless you tell me. So please, if you're bored or confused or upset with a character or something, please tell me so that I can work on it. If I hear nothing, then I have no idea what the problem is, so I don't know what to fix and I feel trapped. Please tell me these things so that I can do my job, which is to make you guys happy, right.

Thank you and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Summary: Larry and Alfred search for evidence of Netherlands and Denmark's guilt, but will things turn out for the better or worse?

Warnings: Strong language, Violence, Blood, Very mild yaoi, and Character death.

Disclaimer: Larry's ass is the only ass I own.

~Chapter 11~

Who the Hell Let Motaff Write This Shit?

"I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go."

-From the American movie, "The Titanic"

THE WAR: Day 16

I quickly added, "Or, at the very least, in legion with them." Saying it aloud only made it seem crazier. The boat continued to rock in the waves, the hammocks behind us swaying to its rhythm. I knew that it made sense when I thought about it, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. Denmark was best friends with Alfred and the Netherlands saved my butt more than once. Why would they be working against us?

I watched with pity as Alfred's eyes went wide. "B-but how . . ." I could see the realization dawn on his face- the facts that I had previously ignored. He bowed his head, trying to shake the idea from him. "But they're both good people. Why would they?"

"I'm not sure, but think about it, Alfred,' I said. "The whole time I've been here, Denmark's been either harassing me or trying to tell me something. It's like he's been distracting me this whole time from Gilbert." I shook my head. This was crazy. "I'm not sure what Netherlands's deal is, but he's been linked to Denmark's side since the beginning. If one of them is in something fishy, then I'm sure the other is close behind." Alfred only continued to shake his head. "What?' I asked. "You don't believe me?"

"No Larry- I believe you, it's just . . ." He released a long, tense breath of air as he ran his hand through his hair. The boat's swaying seemed to increase with every second. A trick of the mind, I know, but it made me feel sick. I leaned against the wall by the staircase, watching Alfred as he said, "It just makes too much sense. I like both of them. I don't want them to be bad."

I reached out and placed it on his shoulder. "It's just a theory," I told him. "Most likely, it isn't true."

"It's more than just that." My mentor's frown grew tighter, the line becoming thinner and thinner. "You see, Lar, I never told you this but once when I went to the Room, Bud and Erwin told me something," he said. "They told me that all of this has happened before, but with a girl in another girl's body." My ears pricked. This happened before? Since when? "She was clueless to everything around her and therefore nearly lost her mentor's soul. The fact that you even have a theory is a sign- a good sign for me. It means that you're smarter, that you're paying attention." At last, he raised his face, revealing a soft smile. "That's why I swear that I'm going to trust you with this and the whole Gilbert thing. Because you're smart. Smarter than me. And I can trust you to not kill me and stuff."

For a moment, the only thing I could do was gape at him dumbly. He thought I was smart. He trusted me not to screw everything up for him. He believed in me. I could barely raise my voice above a whispered as I said, "Thanks, but . . ." I heisted. Eh, why not? "Why didn't you tell me about that story earlier?"

He grinned, almost back to his normal facade but not quite. "Because I knew that if you knew, you would compare yourself to the girl and think that if she could do it then there would be no reason for you not to and that would put more pressure on you, you know?"

I nodded. I did know. I knew that he was right. "You really did do your research on me." I smirked. I squeezed his shoulder, trying to look confident as I said, "But I swear, I'll do whatever it takes to save you."

His grin grew bigger. "Alright. What's first, captain?"

Crap! I forced my smile to stay on my face, but my panic was causing it to falter. Stupid- can he really just push all of the pressure on me all of the sudden? I didn't know what I was doing half of the time. How can I be expected to lead my mentor around? But he was giving me those stupid, innocent, puppy-dog eyes and I knew that I couldn't refuse. And besides, even though he was in an adult's body Alfred was still eleven. I didn't know how long he's been eleven, but either way I was still his elder. I had to lead him.

Plus, Sokka (the character, not my cat) was able to take up leadership of the Gaang for pretty much the exact same reasons. If he could do it, why not me? Taking a deep breath, I glanced up the stairs. "Alright, Alfred. First, we pretend we don't know anything about Denmark and Netherlands and just act normal. Second, we go check up on Denmark and see how he's been doing since he . . ." Even now, I still could not say it. The image of blood spilling from his lips sent made goose bumps climb up my arms. I swallowed and started up again. "And third, we try to figure out what is so special about Gilbert before we give him the vial. Understand?"

Alfred nodded happily. "Understand!"

I could help but to chuckled. What an idiot. "Let's go." I started to climb up the stairs, out of the sleeping chambers and into the dining hall. Gilbert's vial bounced in my pocket, pushing against the letter in my pocket. Balancing Sokka in one arm, I pulled He With Your Name's letter out of my pocket. Alfred whistled merrily, in his own little world as I unfolded the crisp page. The thick, black cursive struck a chord with me.

As a leader, I had to figure out who this guy was. Even though he's making my job harder, I had this strange sense that he was trying to help me at the same time. Alfred said that I was observant, right? That had to mean that the answer to this was lying around here somewhere, I just had to acknowledge it.

We reached the top step, entering Ukraine's kitchen. It was empty. A pot of stew was cooking on the stove and I spotted her abandoned knitting on the table. "Hold on. Let's rest here for a moment," I ordered. I placed Sokka on the ground before taking a seat on the bench. Alfred joined me from the other side and we placed our elbows on the table.

He watched inquisitively as I fiddled with the letter, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. "What's that?" He asked.

I abandoned my trail of thought to hand it over to him. "It's another letter from our little friend," I said. "I got it on the night you got mad at me."

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," I said, waving him off. Secretly, I was still kind of pissed at him for it, but I knew better than to let that cloud my judgment. I needed him to be my friend. I needed just for someone to be at my side. "Anyways, Sokka kind of just gave it to . . ." I trailed off. Sokka. . . Sokka was an intelligent cat, the smartest I have ever seen. I would bet my brother's life that if I asked it . . .

I jumped from my chair with a loud crash!, lunging across the floor for my cat. Alfred snapped to his feet, swearing every vulgarity in the dictionary. "The hell- what are doing, Larry?" He demanded, watching as I wrapped my greedy hands around my cat's body. Sokka did not struggle as I pulled it back towards me, cradling it in my arms. "Were you trying to dodge a bullet or something?"

I shook my head, stroking my cat's back. Crossing my legs like a Native American, I explained, "Alfred, every time I get a letter from He With Your Name, Sokka is the messenger. And you have to admit that Sokka's smarter than the average cat, right?" Alfred nodded. "So, in theory, he can tell us who He With Your Name is."

He pointed a finger up like a teacher who knew too much. "One problem: Sokka can't speak human."

I bit my lip. Of course- that was a problem. But there had to be a way around it, right? I scratched my head, thinking of a solution. There had to be one. "Alright . . . " An idea popped into my head. I took my cat in my hands, holding it up by its armpits, and forced it to look at my face. "So Sokka, you're a smart cat, right?" I asked. Sokka meowed. Alfred looked at me with fascination. "I think we'll have to play the guessing game with you then. We say a name and you meows once for 'no' and twice for 'yes'."

"That's not going to work," Alfred piped.

"Not with that attitude." I placed Sokka on the ground in front of me. It sat on its butt, its tail swishing back and forth as its green eyes gazed up at me cutely. Man, I love cats. The blonde continued with his skeptical look, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot. I scowled. Time to prove him wrong. I clapped my hands together. "Okay, let's start with an easy question," I said. "Is the sky blue? Answer yes or no, Sokka."

My cat meowed twice.

I smirked, dancing my brows for Alfred. At first, it looked as though he was going to keep his visage, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitch, begging to form an enthusiastic grin. Victoriously, I looked down at Sokka, asking, "Is Alfred the hero?"

Again, it meowed twice.

"You know, it could be that two meows are his favorite thing right now," Alfred said. He lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs like mine. He placed his hands on his knees, looking at my cat through cracked specs. "Okay Sokka, I have a question for you," he said. "How much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck can chuck wood?"

I resisted the urge to bang my head. "What the- that's not even a yes or no-"

Sokka meowed once.

Alfred nodded. "Okay. I'm convinced."

I clamped my mouth shut, looking between my yawning cat and satisfied friend. "You're not serious," I said. "All it took was that?"

He nudged my shoulder. "C'mon Lar! The cat doesn't have all day."

I could feel the vein pop out of my forehead, but there was no point in arguing. Sighing, I relaxed my shoulders and took my letter back from Alfred. "Okay, so first thing first-" Crap? What was the first thing?" "-Is to, um, figure out who might actually be He With Your Name."

Alfred scratched his chin. "So we're not gonna just list off every name of everyone on the ship?"

"No, we wouldn't have time." I pointed to the knitting on the table, saying, "Ukraine left that there. Chances are she'll come back for those soon or someone else will come down here looking for lemons or something. Neither of us need to be seen talking to a cat about some sort of conspiracy. And besides-" I flashed him a challenging smile. "-When has the hero ever guessed?"

He took the bait like a girl at a makeup kiosk. He puffed out his chest, wearing his best, sparkling Superman face. "Of course, the hero knows everything- he never has to guess!" He announced, placing his fists on his hips. "And luckily, my dear sidekick, I know the perfect way to narrow down the battlefield." He didn't wait for me to answer. "Those letters has to be sent by someone on this ship who can't risk talking to you for whatever reason."

I nodded. "Or can't get close enough to," I added. Alfred looked at me eagerly, waiting for me to finish the puzzle. I placed my hand on my chin, staring down at the ground below the cat's paws. "Of course, that really doesn't narrow down the selection," I told him. "But we'll start with the obvious. So who couldn't talk to me?" I reached into my pocket and pulled out my journal. Luckily, no one took out the stub of a pencil that I hid in the pages. I flipped to a random page and scribbled down the name of every crew member. Then, one by one, I started crossing them out. "Can't be you . . . no reason to hide . . . always have alone time in morning . . ."

Somehow, I narrowed it down to three names. I placed my pencil between the pages, asking, "Sokka, did Denmark give you the letters?"

Alfred looked at me, confused. "Denmark?" I didn't blame him. I mean, minutes ago I was raving about how he could be the bad guy.

"I never let him close enough to talk to me," I explained. "And the contents of the letter could be exactly what he wanted to discuss. Plus he was in the dungeon for most of my time here. He would have to use Sokka to pass on his message."

I thought that it was a pretty solid theory, but Sokka only meowed once.

I tried not to groan. "Okay, okay—" I peered back down at my book. "Is it Russia?"

One meow.

"Belarus?"

Uno meow.

I frowned. Well there goes my three guesses. I admit, my Russia and Belarus arguments were a bit more flimsy than my Denmark one. It was based solely on the idea that they wouldn't want to crew to realize that there was a scandal among their leaders. I should have known it was false, though. I mean, they are the subjects of the letters after all. Falling in love with them . . .

Alfred sighed. "Damn it, this is hard," he complained. "I mean, no one on this stupid boat looks slightly suspicious enough to do something like this, well except Denmark and Netherlands but that's different."

"On this boat . . ." It suddenly hit me, quicker and less painful than a paintball bullet. I jumped forward, leaning into my cat. "Okay Sokka, last one. The person who gave you the letters was Spain, wasn't it?"

Sokka seemed to brighten considerably, meowing like crazy as it pawed at my leg. I grinned dumbly and laughed like a maniac. "I knew it!" I yelled, scooping the pet into my arms. "It's Spain!"

My friend could only look at us with utter disbelief. "But Spain's not even on this ship!" He said quickly. "No one knows where he is!"

"Maybe that's why he has to communicate with me with letters," I said, speaking over Sokka's ruckus. It didn't seem like it was going to stop soon. I guess it was as happy about this realization as I was. "Because he can't get close enough?"

Alfred opened his mouth, ready to snap something back when nothing left his mouth. He looked down at himself, surprised at his lack of words. It was probably the first time in his life he has ever been speechless. He closed his mouth, his eyes shining with defeat. Then he finally used his brain. "Well, I guess he could have your name," he muttered. "Netherlands called Denmark 'Mathias' so maybe someone has called him 'Larry' at some point or other . . ."

"I'll go get it right now!"

Alfred and I exchanged looks. "That sounded a lot like Agatha," I said just as a pair of feet started to pound on the steps to the deck. "Who is coming downstairs to us right now- crap!" Alfred and I both jumped to our feet, scrambling to look normal. I placed Sokka back on the ground and rushed to my seat at the table as Alfred ran with inhuman speed to a crate. He tossed me a lemon before return to the table with his own.

By the time Agatha's redhead appeared in the room, we were munching away at the sour fruit, pretending to be absorbed in a conversation. Alfred stuffed his mouth, miraculously talking without choking. "I'm telling you, Liech," he said. "Shea butter is amazing."

I frowned. Ugh, shea butter. My sister was obsessed with that stuff. She claimed that while she had no idea what it was exactly, she still made sure that it was in every product she ever buys. Like in her purse at the hospital, there was a small Bath and Body Works bottle of shea butter hand lotion. Sometimes when she gets very stressed, I noticed, she will squirt some of it into her hands and mutter incoherent reassurances to herself. I pursed my lips, trying to rid myself of the sour taste in my mouth. I snapped, "And I'm telling you that shea butter sucks."

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT SHEA BUTTER?" The next thing I knew, Agatha was perched on top of the table, her face right in mine. "Shea butter is the greatest shit that has ever existed," she declared, breaking my ear drums. I slapped my hands over them, swearing to myself. Remind me why this girl really isn't my sister again? "Shea butter can condition your hair, take care of blemishes, moisturized your skin, act as sunscreen-"

"Do they even have sunscreen back in the pirate days?" I demanded.

Agatha blinked, her light blue eyes shining with her confusion. "What do you mean?" She asked, lifting herself upright. I placed my face in my hand and groaned, quickly ordering her to forget it. She scowled. "I'm always left out of the loop," she muttered, sliding off of the table. "First Turkey and now you- oh, Liechtenstein?" I hummed. "Captain Russia's looking for you."

I rolled my head back. "Ugh, really?" I groaned. "Did I do something wrong again?"

"Not that I know of, but he was making it sound really urgent."

"I don't have time for this," I thought, glaring at the table. "Alfred's time's running out and I need to figure that out first before I go figuring out Liechtenstein's love life." I looked up. Alfred himself was giving me a look that silently told me to get my butt moving. He and I both knew that as much as we hated the idea we still had to act natural, even if a cat tells us that two personified countries currently hold the key to Alfred and Stella's lives.

I sighed, sliding out of my chair. "Alright, alright- I'll go talk to him," I said. Sokka immediately sprang for my legs, taking the opportunity to paw at them and meow loudly. I ignored it, instead placing my focus on my not-sister. "Is there another reason why you're down here?" I asked.

I watched as her face dropped. "Oh shit, the knitting!" Agatha belly-flopped onto the table, reaching out for the pink yarn. I could not help but to chuckle. Times like this I missed Sherry's immaturity. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and started off. I did not ignore Alfred when he gave me a passing- comforting -pat on the back. It relaxed my back.

For what felt like the billionth time, I climbed up the stairs and into the morning sun. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The air was salty, but clean. Its crispness made me feel pure, like a child fresh out of baptism. I smiled to myself. Act natural: I could do that. I may have messed up in nearly all other aspects of my life, but I was positive that I could do this.

"Liechtenstein?"

And like that, my tranquility was gone.

I yelped, jumping a mile when the Netherlands approached me, saying my name with panic brevity. I placed a hand on my breast, feeling my heart jump erratically. My blood was on fire. It was hard to tell through my wide eyes whether the Dutchman could sense my panic. In fact, I thought he looked more edgy than I was. His green eyes were frantically darting to every corner of The Romanov as he incessantly wiped his hands on his pants.

I grinded my teeth. Natural, Larry. You have to act natural. "Hey Netherlands," I said, trying to sound cheerful while an obviously fake smile painted my face. "What's up with you?"

My bad feeling was confirmed when the Netherlands gave a leery look between me and the rest of the unknowing crew. When he was sure that no one was paying either of us any attention, he drew his mouth into a tight frown and leaned in. I took a small step back, afraid of what evil he'll commit, but he only whispered, "Look Liech, I know that you're probably in a hurry but we need to talk. Now."

I wanted to flee. I wanted to retreat below deck and hide myself behind Alfred. I didn't care what I did- I just wanted to get away from him. That was the probably with ships, I guess. There was nowhere to run on them. The only escape was in the ocean. I shook my head, making an 'x' with my arms. Fleeing was something I couldn't do, but I could escape to the safety of my captain's quarters. "Sorry," I said, pushing past him. Why can't walking calmly be faster? "But Russia kind of wants to talk to me, so if you'll just excuse me-"

The Netherlands grabbed my arm, pulling me back to him. I stumbled a few paces back, but I refused to move any more than that- nonetheless, look at him. If this was a game of will than I was sure as heck going to win at it. The man growled, "We need to talk now, Liechtenstein."

I finally turned back to him. The anger in his face matched the anger radiating in his voice. His brows were furrowed in such a way it made his veins jut out of his forehead. For some reason, that only made me want to ball my fist and punch him until he bled. But that wasn't natural and I had to be more organic than fruit. I tried twisting my arm at odd angles, trying to yank it free. "Let go of me!" I demanded loudly. I looked behind myself, catching a small glance of Turkey and Switzerland. They were talking to each other, completely absorbed in their conversation. If only I could get one of their attentions. "I said no!"

"This is about Denmark," the blonde snapped.

"I said no," I repeated. I craned my neck back, yelling, "Big Brother!"

"Listen to me, Larry!"

I stopped dead.

My mouth fell open. Sweat trickled down my neck and back. My hair was all over the place—whatever didn't stick out of my head like yellow horns was frizzing unmercifully. My blood turned cold, consuming my body with trepidation. I couldn't raise my head- I couldn't look at the man. He just . . did that mean . . . "Why do you know that name?" I whispered.

Bang~!

Before the Netherlands could reply, Switzerland fired off his gun as he ran to my rescue. He grabbed the Dutch's shirt collar, ramming him unmercifully into the rails. "What the hell are you doing to my little sister?" Switzerland growled, jamming the hot barrel of his gun under the Netherlands's chin.

He frowned thickly, growling, "I'm not doing anything." He was promptly banged into the rails again.

Switzerland's face turned to a dark shade of crimson as he yelled, "Yes you were!"

By now, the whole crew was staring, wondering what could have possibly pissed Switzerland off this time. I didn't notice. I stood in the same spot, petrified. I felt cold, yet I couldn't even shiver in fear. My head was on overload, trying to process what had just happened. "I was right?" I wondered, staring down at my black shoes. Sokka was at my legs, meowing as it pawed my shins. "Is Netherlands really . . ."

A hand landed on my shoulder. "Are you alright, Liech?" Turkey asked, looking down at me with concern amber eyes. "You seem kind of shaken."

I blinked. Wait. I had to act natural, didn't I?

I snapped back to my senses, trying to laugh casually as I scratched the back of my neck. "What do you mean?" I asked quickly. It was evident that I asked it too quickly since Turkey raised a suspicious, unconvinced, eyebrow. I mentally swore. "Damnit! Stella makes acting look so easy. . ." I waved my hands in front of myself, saying, "I mean, I was scared, but I'm alright now."

If I had to admit one thing, it was that Turkey was sharp. His continued to look at me critically, debating with himself whether he should press further or not. But as the Netherlands continued to deny his charges, Turkey finally sighed. "Alright then . . . Russia's asking for you," he said. Did gossip travel fast here or was this part of a ship wide announcement that I was left out of? "If you feel up to it, you should probably go see him now."

I felt like a Pokemon character: right after some important plot point happens, some random NPC directs me back to my current mission. "I'll do that now," I grimaced.

Turkey smiled, placing an arm around my shoulder. He said, "Here, I'll escort you."

I thought about pushing him away, but I decided against it. I thought that at that point, Turkey has done more than enough to make up for all of those perverted incidents back then. I mean, he got himself captured by the Red Coats while protecting Agatha. That had to count for something. I let him guide me across the deck, weaving me around the converging crew members who wanted nothing more than a good show. I noticed Belarus was up in the crow's nest, most likely relieving Hong Kong for a while. She looked pissed. Whether it was at me or the Netherlands, I didn't know.

Still, I wanted to help her, I just didn't have the time. I had to go get Russia out of my hair first and then find a quiet place to tell Alfred about what just happened, because the Netherlands really is Bud or Erwin. How else would he know my name?

When we reached the door to the captain's quarters, I thanked Turkey before shooing him away. Throwing my courage to the sticking place, I cracked my neck and knocked on the door. "Come in, Liechtenstein!" Russia called. "The door's open!" I couldn't help but be confused. Did he really know that I was the one out here or was it simply a lucky guess?

Russia's room looked like it always has. Same regal air, same glittering trinkets. But as I watched Russia rise from his large desk at the window to greet me, I noticed one major difference. There, in his bed, was Denmark.

All sense left me as my feet automatically ran to his side. I felt my heart fight against my ribs as I knelt by the bed, taking hold of his sweaty hand. Denmark wasn't awake. He was asleep, breathing with difficulty with a flush face. His forehead was hidden under a wet towel, water droplets mingling with sweat. He was sick, very sick. I felt my heart break as I placed my forehead on the mattress. "Oh God," I whispered. A vague corner of my head reminded me that he was obviously the enemy, but I ignored it.

Denmark looked like he was in so much pain.

Russia stood off to the side awkwardly, reaching his hand out to me before quickly snapping it back to his side. I could tell by the way he shyly bit his lip that he had no idea what to do. People and their emotion weren't necessarily his area of expertise. I watched him as he sighed, looking away from me. "Whatever killed him earlier is healed now," he told me bluntly. "But instead of waking up, he developed a fever. No one knows what to do. This has never happened before."

I nodded, embracing the reality and reveling in the feeling of Sokka stroking himself against my hip. A part of me felt shameful for showing such weakness so quickly, but I told it to shut up. Slowly, I rose to my feet. "I understand," I said, turning my back to the sick man. "Thank you Russia for being truthful with me."

Russia stared at me, as if not believing what he had just heard. After the story Belarus told me, I could imagine the victory going on in his head. At last, someone was treating him kindly! "You're welcome, Liechtenstein." Russia straightened his back and raised his chin, trying to regain his lost composure. "But how are you, Liechtenstein?" He asked. "You were out for a day."

I shrugged, chuckling anxiously. "Oh, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" He asked, taking a large step towards me. Even though my current relationship the people I have trust was falling apart (didn't Netherlands bargain with England to get Gilbert and Turkey home? Why would my enemy do that?), I felt confident in my relationship with Russia. He's one of the few people on this bloody boat who's listened to what I've said and taken it to heart. I told him that I didn't like one thing and he never did it again. "You fainted from shock, didn't you?"

I watched him come closer, not feeling the slightest amount of fear. "I did, but you really shouldn't-" Russia wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to his chest. I paused, realizing that the thumping in my ear was his heart. Why was his heart beating so fast? Nonetheless, why was Russia holding me? Somehow, I found the guts (even if I was speaking much softer) to finish my statement. "Worry about me."

Russia shook his head, hunching into me. The giant pressed his face into the crook of my neck, saying, "But I do worry about you. I worry about you every day, every minute, every second." He held me even tighter. "I can't stop worrying about you, Liechtenstein. I can't get your voice out of my head. Why is that?"

I couldn't tell if it was his words or his grip that was making me breathless. "You-"

"I've just been so afraid lately," he told me. "I've just been so afraid that I'm dreaming and that I'm going to wake up and find out that you hate me, just like everyone else. Promise that you wouldn't leave me, Liechtenstein. Promise me."

I didn't know what to do. This was so obviously a love confession and my mind was drawing a blank. What was I supposed to do? Lie and say 'yes I love you too' or tell the truth and say 'no I only pity you'. Should I shoot him down bluntly or try to beat around the bush kindly? Now that I think about it, this is probably one of the reasons why Tamara broke up with me: I have no idea what the heck I am doing half of the time.

At last, Russia pulled away. His warm, oversized hands cupped my cheeks as he swept right into my face. His nose barely touched mine as his violet eyes looked at me with hope and longing. "I love you, Liechtenstein," he confessed softly. "I don't think that I can live without you. Please- please tell me that you feel the same." He leaned in.

Some natural, animalistic instinct kicked in. Even though I had no idea what I should do, what the nicest thing to do was, or how this would affect either of us, I turned my head. I winced as Russia's lips landed on my cheek. Okay, being kissed by another dude definitely equals gross.

Russia immediately realized what happened and pulled away. His face- oh his face was heart breaking. All of the ardent love he held for me was crumbling away into despair. Yet, he tried to keep his smile. He tried to grin happily as he looked down at me with worried eyes. "I guess I was moving too fast for you then?" He asked hopefully, in denial. I kept my mouth shut. I didn't trust myself to say the right thing. His hands started to shake at his sides as two trails of silent tears fell down the sides of his face. "But you love me too, Liechtenstein. Don't you?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I looked down at the floor. "Russia, I-"

There was a loud banging on the floor. "Russia!" A second later, the door flew open, revealing a frantic Ukraine. Her face was flushed and her hair was everywhere. She held her knitting was in her hand as she looked with wide eyes at her little brother's broad back. "Russia, Belarus is calling for you," she said quickly. "She says that it's important."

I watched as Russia closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "I understand," he said. I could not help but to shrink away. His voice was like a cold, empty void. There was no amount of emotions in there, only the professional facade of a man made of rock. He wiped the tears from his face, looking straight ahead as he flicked the cuffs of his coat. Without giving me a second glance, he turned to his sister, saying, "By important, do you believe that it's important to the safety of my crew or to the vitally of winning THE WAR?"

Ukraine looked at her brother oddly, realizing quite well what his demeanor meant. I couldn't help but to wish that Sherry had that kind of a sisterly instinct. "Are you sure you want to talk to her now?" She asked, rushing to block the doorway with her body. "I mean, I think that you might need a few moments to compose-"

Russia shoved her out of the way, disregarding the kind of pain he could inflict upon her. She was rammed into the door, gasping as she slid to the floor. Her knitting slid across the floor, the pink yarn of ball unraveling as it rolled away. He sneered, "I am the captain of this ship, Ukraine. You are not. You have no right to order me around as such."

His sister sat on the ground, nodding as she sniffled quietly. "I understand."

He stepped over her, pulling out his pipe as he went. "Good. Now don't forget it."

When he was gone, the ends of his brown coat that fluttered behind him long gone, Ukraine pulled her handkerchief out from her skirt pocket and wiped her nose. She sniffled a few times, looking up at me with the kind of hurt only family could inflict. "What did you say to him?" She asked. Her voice was low and dangerous, like a mama bear protecting her cubs. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. "Liechtenstein, what did you say?"

I threw my hands into the air. "I didn't say anything!" I said. "He just got all upset-"

"You know what happened to my brother." I jumped. Since when did Ukraine snap at people and with such vicious poison as well? Ukraine dabbed away the rest of her tears before rising to her feet. I rushed to help her, but she just brushed me aside and used the doorframe to support herself. "I'm fine, thanks. But my brother is upset. Do you know what happens to someone when they're in constant pain?" Ukraine asked. She didn't wait for me to answer. "They get desperate. I haven't seen this much pain on his face in years. You better fix this Liechtenstein before he hurts himself again."

Frustration boiled in my blood. If I knew one thing, it was that this could not and would not be blamed on me. "All I did was say that I didn't love him!" I snapped harshly. "How is that such a bad thing?"

"It's not. But this is a war and in wars, people die if they aren't in their best of shapes. If Belarus really is going to tell Russia that he has to prepare the ship for battle, then he's guaranteed to die unless you can give him a reason to live again. Just for a day."

"Even if he dies, he's bound to come back, remember?"

She stretched her hand to the feverish man in the bed. "That's what they said about Denmark," she practically yelled. "And look where he is! Take pity Liechtenstein and just pretend! For his sake-"

That was the last straw. "That's all I've been doing!" Ukraine took a step back, her the color draining from her face. My volume frightened her- that much I could tell, but I didn't care. "The whole time I've been here, I've been nothing but everyone's tool! Do this, feel this, believe that- I'm sick of it!" I placed a hand on my chest, saying, "Believe it or not but I'm Lar- Liechtenstein! I'm my own person and I make my own decisions. Don't blame your screw ups as a sister on me." With that, I pushed aside her, storming onto the deck.

I tried not to be bugged by the terrified gleam in her eyes.

The crew, for the most part, was so absorbed in what Russia and Belarus (now on the ground) were discussing that nearly no one noticed my argument with Ukraine. I say nearly since there was one familiar head of white hair that came trotting from the crowd up to me. "What the hell was that about?" Gilbert demanded, looking down at me with worried eyes. "You look really upset."

I shook my head. There was a painful buzz in my chest and I felt light headed, but what else could I do but ignore it? "It's fine, Gilbert. But-" I looked around him, double checking my surroundings. "-Have you seen either Netherlands or Alfred around here?" I asked.

I cursed my luck when he shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "But Switzerland and Turkey had to take Netherlands below deck for some unawesome reason and Alfred's been, well, Alfred." His ears perked at something someone said behind him, causing him to glance around to check. "Sounds as though they're arguing," he told me, face drawn. Sure enough, Russia and Belarus looked at each other with equal frustration, snapping quick words at each other as they pointed at an old map.

Gilbert and I exchanged a look before he silently stepped aside, letting me get a better view of the situation. Russia was glaring down at his sister with hard eyes, mouth twitching from anger. "This will be the perfect time to attack England and you know it," he said harshly. "Order our comrades to take up arms and get into offensive position now, sister."

To my amazement, she fiercely shook her head. "I have a bad feeling about this," she said. "Every time we've gone against England, he's always used an invisibility spell to cloak his ship. This reeks of an ambush, Russia."

I opened my mouth with realization. Belarus must have seen The Oberon in the distance and needed to consult her brother about an attack. Surprisingly, I had to agree with Belarus on this one. England had a pattern and- even if I could see the white sails plain on the horizon as plain as day -he was not likely to break it.

Our captain curled his upper lip. "I gave an order, Belarus," he growled dangerously. "I expect you to follow it."

She returned the visage of hate. "I do not recommend this course of action," she returned evenly.

His face grew dark. "Is this munity?"

For a second, it looked as though Belarus had one last objection to make. But she bit her lip, looking down at the ground with defeat. She stayed that way for a long moment. The crew continued to give her pleading looks, begging her to defend them against Russia's insanity. No one wanted to die, especially with what Denmark was going through. At last, she snapped her head to her fellows. "You heard your captain," she barked, radiating power as she pushed her way through the crowd. "Battle stations, now. Hong Kong, get yourself into that crow's nest and report all enemy movements to either me or our captain. Switzerland, Greece- you two man the cannons. Everyone else, grab your weapons and prepare yourselves for battle."

Gilbert shook his head as he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way of the dispersing crew. "Is he nuts?" he demanded loudly. "Is Russia just trying to get us killed?"

"At least you guys will come back," I said shakingly. Anxiety was wrapping her terrible arms around my slim shoulders, whispering fears and truths into my ear. A shiver inched down my spine at the thought of battle- the clashing of swords, the roars of guns, the splatter of blood. Before, I had the red arm band to protect me from the fighting, but now that I was an official Brown Coat, I was officially drafted into service. I crossed my arms over my chest, a vain attempt to hold myself. "I have no idea if I'll even live through this."

The Prussian looked down at me, his face softened. He knelt down to my height, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Larry," he said, giving me his cocky grin. "The awesomeness that is me will protect you."

I grimaced. "Thanks. Sorry I'm such a whimp."

Before he could reply, one that I was sure was going to be a reassurance of my manliness, Belarus came stopping over to me. "Liechtenstein!" I flinched, bracing myself for the lecture she was bound to give me. I didn't know exactly what the lecture was going to be about, but I knew that she would find some flaw to complain about. But just as I turned to greet her, Belarus was taking my hand and pressing something in my palm.

I looked down, uncurling my fist to reveal two throwing knives. My heart skipped a beat. Or four.

I looked up, questions dripping on the tip of my tongue, but found myself speechless nonetheless. At last, I could see it. I could finally see it: the real Belarus. I could finally see that beneath her hard, critical layer was a kindness. A worry. Behind the venomous glint in her eyes was a caring young woman. Belarus ignored my awe as she scowled at me, saying, "These are to be used to protect yourself only. I don't want you fighting anyone. Your orders, Liechtenstein, is to find a quiet corner of the ship and hide there until this battle is over, understand?"

I nodded dumbly. When I only stared at her with large eyes, she started to walk away. I found my voice. "Thank you, Belarus."

She didn't stop, only continued her march. "Don't thank me yet."

Gilbert and I watched her go, both of us absorbed in our own admiration for her. "She's kickass," my albino friend whispered, whistling in approval.

I nodded, shoving the knives into my pocket. When will she ever stop surprising me? "Agreed."

The next twenty minutes were spent gathering sword and guns and other kinds of weaponry. Gilbert helped me search for a quiet place to hide and we evidently decided on the dungeon. We had no one in chains down there, so there would be no reason for any of the Red Coats to go down those stairs. My other option was the sleeping chambers, but that was where the Netherlands was resting (he, apparently, fell asleep promptly after Switzerland finished grilling him) and that definitely was not a good idea. Not yet. "I have to find Alfred," I thought determinedly as I insisted on following Gilbert back to above deck. I told him that I would hide when the actual fighting starts, but until then I needed to find my friend. I needed to warn him about the Netherlands.

When we reached the top step, I was immediately greeted with a sight that I haven't seen in a long time. And by that, I meant that Turkey and Agatha were arguing. "For the last time- Wait in the captain's quarters until it's safe!" Turkey ordered, holding her hand as he tried to drag her away. But my sister's dear doppelganger kept hold of the rail, refusing to budge. He groaned, looking ready to pull out one of his double swords and cut off her arms. "Goddamnit, Agatha! Would you just listen to me for once?"

She shook her head, her eyes red from unshed tears. "No! I want to stay with you!" She yelled. He pulled at her again. "Turkey!" I pinched the bridge of my nose, muttering as many insults I could think of. She was a shame to the Sue name. Thank goodness she wasn't even a real Sue.

Turkey groaned, smacking his forehead. "Oh my fucking God, Agatha!"

"Oh my God, that must be, like, a total pain." All four of us froze. Seemingly out of thin air, Poland appeared at Agatha's side, leaning into the rail as he twirled a lock of his hair boredly. We all glared at the red band on his arm. Inside, however, I was freaking out. He was the enemy—how did he get here? How long until the others arrive? "Seriously, Turks," he said. "How do you, like, deal with that?"

Gilbert growled, roughly grabbing Poland by the collar of his shirt. He banged him against the rails, flashing his fangs as he sneered, "How the hell did you get here?"

Poland didn't even bat an eyelid. No, he only shrugged carelessly, saying, "With, like, mad skills and stuff."

I turned to the opposite side of the boat, seeing The Oberon still looming on the horizon. "But your ship is so far away," I whispered quietly. " You'll have to be a really good swimmer, unless . . ." It finally clicked. "It's a trap!" I yelled. My feet moved on their own accord, racing to the nearest superior. "It's an ambush-"

The next thing I knew, I was ducking for cover, hiding my face and covering my ears as the captain's quarters burst into flames. A loud boom! shattered the air, leaving a piercing ring in my ears. I placed a hand on my head, wincing when the ringing intensified. It blocked out the rest of my hearing, muting the screams and yells around me. I looked up. A fourth of our vessel was in flames, including the passage to below deck. Half of our crew laid sprawled on the ground, most injured, a few not moving. Those who were moving were burnt, their clothes still aflame as their toasted skin smoked. I blinked a few times, trying to process what this all meant.

Then it hit me.

"No." My voice croaked as I reached out to the heat, wincing at the intensity. The ringing wouldn't stop. "Denmark's still in there!" Gilbert threw Poland aside, racing to my side. He lifted me over his shoulder, ignoring my protest as I banged my fists on his back and kicked my legs into his chest. "Let me go!" I cried hoarsely. "Denmark's still in there, he's-"

"He's a lost cause now," Gilbert snapped. His voice was a mere muffle in my screwed up eardrums. He returned us to our original position. Agatha was no longer holding the rail and Turkey was no longer pulling her along. They both stared in equal shock, stunned into silence. They were still holding hands. Poland, meanwhile, was lounged on a crate, idly picking at his nails. Gilbert looked ready to strangle him, but since he was still holding me, the albino had to make do with a cold glare. "What the hell was that?"

Poland shrugged. "Some kind of explosion or something," he said carelessly. "We haven't even, like, gotten to the best part yet."

Turkey's eyes went wider. "There's a 'best part'?"

He nodded eagerly. "Like totes. It should be starting in, like, three, two-"

The ringing left my ears as a dark figure appeared in the fire. My panicking crewmates paused, focusing their attention away from their dead comrades as the figure stepped out of the fire, revealing himself to be no other than England. His red coat fluttered around him as the ashes settled in the air. He was unaffected by the flames, smirking at our horrified expressions. "Sorry for the mess," he said cockily. "But I wanted a grand entrance."

I watched as Russia took a step forward , cracking his neck as he tapped his pipe on the ground. "Ah, there you are, England," he said, grinning a cold, childish smile. "I was wondering where you were. Though-" He stopped, barely a foot from the Red Coat. "It was foolish of you to come without a crew."

England threw his head back in a hearty laugh. It made all of our hearts drop into a sick feeling. "Do you take me to be an idiot, Russia?" He asked, grinning like a madman. His acid eyes gave a side glance, a signal for his crew to come out of hiding. One by one, the pirates with red armbands appeared in the open, some standing on the rails, others mingling in the crowd. "Of course I wouldn't come alone."

For a moment, no one dared to move.

Stillness . . .

Russia swung his pipe and all hell broke loose. All around me, people began to fight- throwing punches, firing guns, swinging blades. England and Russia danced by the flames, their long coats creating monster-like silhouettes against the light. I saw Belarus fearlessly duel France, though she only had her daggers and he had a rapier. Seychelles and a soot covered Netherlands fought each other with swords at the other end of the deck. Poland dashed right through us, sticking out his tongue until he knocked into Hong Kong. Then he was rolling to the side, dodging a martial arts kick, cursing his stupidity for not bringing his gun.

Turkey raised his sword, pulling Agatha behind him. "Agatha, I need you to let go of my hand," he told her, zoning his eyes in on the fight before him. "I need to use both of my swords."

She shook her head pressing her face into his arm. "Please," she begged, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her knees were shaking, knocking into one another. "Never let go. Please."

Gilbert placed me down on the ground, drawing his own sword from its sheath. "No worries, lover boy," he said as he rolled his shoulder and pumped his blood. "The awesome me will help protect you."

I scrambled to pull out my two knives. "And so will I," I announced, pulling myself into the stance Belarus taught me. Deep down, I still didn't want to fight. I wanted to curl up and cry about the battle. But it was time I raised my chin and fight for what I wanted to protect. I had to protect my sister. I had to protect my friends.

But Gilbert only shook his head. "No you wouldn't, Liech," he ordered sternly. He looked the most serious I've ever seen him. The most stressed out as well- sweat was already brimming along his hairline. "You go find Switzerland- he'll protect you."

Turkey shook his head. "Switzy and Greece were down in the canon room," he told us quietly. "And the fire is blocking the stairs below. They're suck down there."

I gave him an odd look. "But then how did Netherlands get back onto deck?" I wondered. I looked back to said man, witnessing him kick Seychelles away long enough to turn and defend himself from Belgium. "Oh wait, he's covered in soot. Maybe he ran through the flames-"

Gilbert took a step in front of me, blocking my view of the fight. "You don't want to see any of this," he said hastily. "People are getting hurt."

"This is a war," I shouted, pushing him away. "Of course people are-"

The Netherlands was being overpowered. Beyond the dance of Belarus and France, the duel of Russia and England, my enemy was being overpowered by Seychelles and Belgium. Not only was he trying to avoid the smaller's rapier, but he also had to worry about the Belgian's axe. I could see him wear down, trying to hold both weapon out of his face with his sword. Both of their girls were putting in all of their weight, making him collapse onto his knees.

If they defeated him, then it would be a blessing for me, right?

So why did I find myself shouting as I quickly dashed to his aide. I pushed aside the dark haired man Estonia was fighting and ducked beneath Hong Kong's side kick. I ran fast as I could through the crowd, trying to make it in-

I yelped, jumping to the side as a sword nicked my arm. I fell into kneeling position, grinding my teeth through the pain. Jesus Freacking- that felt the same as when Jerry nearly cut off my thumb! I had a second longer to reminisce in my pain before realizing that a sword was coming down upon me. I swore, rolling to the side just as the blade stabbed right where I used to be. I quickly scrambled to my feet, looking at my opponent for the first time.

"H-holy Rome?" I panted, raising my two knives. The teenager nodded laconically, raising his sword for another swing. I swore, quickly drawing my feet into position. He jabbed his sword straight at my stomach, causing me to spin out of the way. I was stumbling over my feet. Fighting was like dancing and I've always had two left feet. I gripped my knives tighter.

I was going to die unless I did something.

Holy Rome swung again and I jumped back. Taking a step forward, he raised his sword high and brought it down. I raised my knives, the blades forming an 'X' above my head. Luckily, they caught the sword blade, though the weight made my knees bent. I grunted. My legs were shaking under the weight. Damnit. . .

Suddenly, the sky grew dark. Holy Rome relieved his pressure for a moment, taking a hand off of the sword hilt for a moment to brush his blond locks out of his face. He looked up to look up at the gathering clouds, not realizing that I was straightening my legs and finding a more solid stance. A storm, one I noticed Russia was stirring with the power of his coat, was starting. Rain fell from the sky like a waterfall, drenching us in a matter of seconds. There was no wind, therefore the waves did not rise in large billows, but the sky flashed in white claps of lightning.

With the first roll of thunder, I finally smarten up. I took a deep breath and, without warning, pushing the sword away with all of my might. Holy Rome pulled away, looking at me with shock, realizing his mistake. Without another thought, I mimicked the stance Belarus showed me and threw a knife at Holy Rome. I was aiming for his right shoulder- a place where he can be injured and not died, but he dodged it. He quickly brought his sword high into the air again, ready to slice me into to. I threw the other knife. The blade embedded itself in his abdominal. I watched as, very slowly, Holy Rome dropped his sword. It landed on the ground with a loud clang!, echoing in my ears. He coughed, placing his hands around the weapon before falling to the ground.

I was stunned.

I could not move.

I reminded myself to breathe.

In.

And out.

Breathe.

Numbly, I reached down and pulled out my weapon. Blood appeared on my hands. It was warm and sticky. I tried wiping it on my pants, but it was stuck like glue. My lungs ached. I told myself to breathe.

You just killed a man, Larry. You are officially a murder. Would Dad want you to have killed someone? Was this what you wanted?

"No," I whispered.

Then why did you do it?

My dirty hands were shaking. Even the rain couldn't wipe away what I had done.

A screamed pierced through the air.

My senses turned back on and I could suddenly feel the world around me again. Everyone was still fighting. A few laid on the ground, seriously injured or dead. Belarus stood still, her eyes wide as she ignored her opponent to stare at a sight. She screamed again. "Russia!"

I followed her eyes.

I wish I hadn't.

The two silhouettes at the fire had stopped fighting. The larger one was on his knees, his hands at his stomach where a sword was driven. The slimmer one dared to stand above him, his hand around the hilt. This time, I screamed. "No!" Anger I never knew I possessed boiled inside of me. My vision became blurred as I raised my knife and started running towards England, but I didn't care. I swooped down and grabbed my other knife as I went. I couldn't let this happen to Russia, I-

Belarus shoved me to the ground, jumping over me as she herself took on my mission. I peeled my face off of the wood deck just in time to see Belarus slide to the ground and kick England in the stomach. He fell back, releasing his weapon. I scrambled back to my feet just as she pulled Russia's coat off of him.

Besides that, she ignored him entirely.

The rain made the world too cold.

He really was dead.

England shot up to sitting position, his eyes searching for the first mate. When he saw her already on the other side of the deck, slipping her arms into the coat sleeves, he cupped his mouth and yelled, "Poland, set off the next round!"

The next round?

"Shit!" I turned, sliding in the water as I tried to run. If I was right, then . . .

The bomb went off.

I felt myself fly across the air, hearing a few muffled sounds before being engulfed in water.

I didn't try to hold my breath. I didn't scream. I didn't kick. I didn't try to swim. I was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark depths. Above me, I could see scraps of wood, crates, bodies, everything fall into the cold depths.

I didn't care.

I could feel the salt sting my wounds. I hadn't even realized that I was cut until I looked at my hand and saw splinters sticking out of my skin. Maybe that was why I couldn't feel my legs. My lungs started to ache. I sunk deeper and deeper.

I was going to die here, wasn't I? I was going to drown before I could ever save Stella. I never told her how I felt. I never apologized for being such an ass. I could imagine her now, waking up in the hospital to find out that I was missing.

Worse of all, I never told Jerry that I was sorry for never truly helping him. I saw him be bullied- I defended off one or two -but I never tried to find out why. I never put any serious effort into saving him, only scolding him for letting all of those boys terrorize him. Why did I do that? Blame the victim? He must hate me right now.

I opened my mouth and choked on water.

I never told Sherry that I was sorry for making fun of her nightmares. I always guessed that it was something awful that happened, but if it was anything like what I did today . . .

My lungs ached as I tried to gasp for air, only to swallow more water.

I love you, Mom.

I love you too, Dad, but I need you to know that I never hated you. I think I understand now that you did love me in your own way. I think that you thought that I was mature enough not to need your attention. You were wrong, though. I'm weak. I know nothing of this world. I needed you and you weren't there. I love you, but please don't make that mistake again. Mom needs you, Jerry needs you, Sherry needs you.

If I die, will you be there for Stella? She'll need you.

I closed my eyes.

I sunk deeper and deeper.

I broke the surface.

"I got her!" Someone yelled, holding me by my waist. I coughed, hacking up disgustingly salty water. My eyes opened just a bit, but all I saw was a dark haze. I wasn't sinking anymore? When did that happen? The person helped me swim to something, forcing me onto the edge. "Liechtenstein, are you there?" the person asked, yelling into my ear.

I wanted to ask when this person came to grab me, why he saved me from drowning, but all that left my mouth was a small moan.

"Okay, you're alive. Hang onto to the ledge and we'll help you in, okay?" I was barely aware the person's hands were on my waist. Still his grip seemed sure as they lifted me out of the water and into a small boat.

Someone else came to his aide, pulling me onto my back and placing the back of their hands on my face. "She's cold, but it's not hyperthermia," he said. The haze started to clear from my eyes and, slowly, I could make out the Netherland's face. He looked beat up, littered with cuts and bruises. Part of his hair was singed and the tip of his ear was black. Although he was frowning at me, his eyes showed relief. "Liechtenstein, I'm going to need you to sit up now," he told me gently. "It'll help you breathe properly."

I nodded limply and allowed him to pull me upright. I leaned into his shoulder, coughing a more water left my lungs. I didn't complain when my shivering drove him to wrap his arm around my shoulders. He was my enemy, I should have pushed him away. But I was too tired and at that point, I was too tired to complain. At least the rain had stopped.

Gilbert appeared at the side of the boat, swinging his leg over the side. "How is she?" He asked worriedly, taking a seat right by me. He too had an assortment of bruises and cuts, though he also possessed a limp. He did not hesitate to pull me off of the Netherland's shoulders and onto his own. He brushed his warm fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my forehead. "Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine, dude," Alfred said as he climbed over the side. He looked surprisingly unscratched, though his glasses were still cracked and his bare chest had many splinters in them. "After all, the hero was the one who saved her." I see, he was the one who pulled me out of the ocean.

Belarus, sitting off to the side in her brother's soaking wet brown coat scowled. "Alfred, Gilbert- were you two able to find any more survivors?" She asked coldly. Whatever wounds she had was caused by her fight with France. She and Alfred must have avoided the majority of the blast.

They both shook their heads. "England must have gotten to everyone else first," Gilbert said solemnly. "It's just the six of us."

Six? Who else was here? I glanced around the deck, realizing quickly that this was the same boat Belarus and the Netherlands used to save us from England the first time. It was positioned close enough to the water, perfect to avoid the blast. After a few seconds, my unfocused eyes were able to make out Turkey. He sat in a lonely corner, staring at his hands. He now wore his mask, covering what Alfred would later tell me was a face burn. He barely moved, barely breathed.

"H-how . . ." I trailed off. Was that really my voice? It was so fragile, so weak, barely above a mumble. When did I become like that? Realizing that everyone was staring at me, I quickly finished my question. "How are you all still alive?"

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the Belarus's explanation of the explosion. Something was wrong . . . "The minute I took the coat, I knew to run for escape, that way THE WAR would not end," she explained quietly. "I jumped over the side of the boat and started to undo the ropes. Alfred was trapped in the fire below deck and saw me at the windows."

Alfred nodded happily, pointing to his chest. "Yeah, so I break the glass and hopped in. I told Switzerland and Greece to hurry up and join me, but before they could, the bomb went off."

"I cut the ropes," she continued. "The moment I hit the water, I had to sail us out a bit from the ship. From what I could tell, England had a spell on himself and he crew to protect them. Alfred and I had to wait for them to finish pulling out our injured before we could search. Pretty lucky for us then that most of you were able to swim over here by ourselves."

"Even luckier that they didn't pick you up, Liech," Gilbert said, nudging my shoulder. "We just had to pull you and Turkey over there out of the water."

I suddenly knew what was wrong.

My blood reached a new level of coldness.

"Where is she?" I asked. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. I just had to know . . . "Where's my sister?"

Everyone gave me confused looks. "Who?" The Netherlands asked. He reached his hand towards me, ready to check my temperature again. "Liechtenstein, who are you-"

I swatted his hand away. I pushed myself off of Gilbert. "Where is she?" I yelled, glaring at Turkey. "Where is Agatha?"

He slowly raised his head and looked at me. His eyes shone contritely as he shook his head. He croaked, "I let go."

MW: I'm sorry, but everyone you love will die.

Anyways, short chapter, huh? A lot of explosions as well. You could say that it was a blast to write.

Yeah, I'm not funny.

So, um, what do I talk about now? I was sick for a while there, but I still did this chapter. I'm going to try to update next week before I leave for three days for a funeral, so I'm going to try to be awesome I guess. You know, I am continually getting worse and worse at writing ANs. This is a serious problem. It's killing me.

Tasteless pun not intended.

Notes

"Motaff" Writer of BBC Sherlock and the latest seasons of Dr. Who. I absolutely hate his writing since the only thing he knows how to do is shock people with sad things.

"Gaang" The fan name of the group the protagonists make in Avatar: the Last Airbender (First season: Aang, Katara, and Sokka).

Next Chapter: With the crew of The Romanov captured, it'll be up to the remaining six to save them. But will they be able to get over the shock to do so?

Thank you all for reading! Sorry for killing off three characters in one chapter, but this is what happens to someone if they haven't killed off a character for over a year now.