England chided himself for his stupidity. He knew it was futile, but what had he hoped for?

A minute of sleep?

It was all he wanted. Just to fall asleep and stay that way. He didn't care how long it lasted, he just wanted sleep! He considered himself lucky that he wasn't human, else he would have died at least four times by now.

He liked to avoid looking in the mirror. It only reminded him of how much he resembled a zombie.

His hand was trembling as he reached for the cup of tea that sat by the side of his bed – his bed that might as well not even be there considering how little it was used for what it was intended for. He poured all of his concentration into keeping his hand steady as he sipped from the cup, careful not to spill any down his front, and then put it back down and tried to ignore the way it clattered in the saucer in accordance with his twitching fingers.

What sort of world was this when a man couldn't even drink his own tea anymore? He knew that insomnia was a symptom, not a disease, but a symptom of what? What was wrong with him?

The sound of a phone snapped his concentration – not that there was much to begin with – and he stumbled out of his bedroom, leaned heavily on the railing as he staggered down the stairs and fell to the floor once he reached the small table on which his phone sat.

Sitting with his back against the wall, he picked up the receiver and tried to avoid dropping it.

"Hello?" he said, wondering who could be calling so early.

"That you, England?"

England sighed.

"What the hell do you want, America?" he asked. "You do know the sun hasn't even risen yet, don't you? I would have thought you'd fallen asleep by now."

"I did," America replied. "That's why I'm calling. I had a nightmare."

"And what?" England demanded moodily. "Do you want me to fly across the Atlantic with warm milk and sing a lullaby?"

He waited for an answer, expecting something snarky and rude.

"Jeez, Iggy, you sound awful," was what he got. "You feelin' alright? Sounds like you haven't slept in weeks."

England rubbed his itching eyes. He wondered whether he would be able to confide his thoughts in such an idiot as America or whether his insomnia would become the latest in worldwide gossip.

Maybe exhaustion was clouding his judgment.

"I haven't," he confessed. "You want the truth, America? I haven't had a wink of sleep ever since I got home from that wretched place and I have no idea why. All I want is just to sleep, is that too much to ask?"

Another pause. England could imagine steam pouring out of the other man's ears as his brain overheated from thinking.

"You can have some of my sleep if you like," he said after a short while.

"Why, what's your problem?" asked England even though he wasn't all that bothered. "Are you sleeping too much or something?"

"Nah, didn't I already say I had a nightmare?" said America. "I've been having nightmares ever since I got home. I know it sounds dumb, but I'm afraid to close my eyes in case I remember anything from…"

"That place."

"Yeah."

"What was it?" England asked, now curious despite himself. He rather liked it when he could have a civilised conversation with America – they didn't happen as often as he preferred. "What did you dream about?"

"It was… crap," America swore. "It was… back w-when I was first caught, a-and they- I-I wanted to help, I really did, but they held me a-and I could hardly move and… a-and then one of them dragged you in and held you up against the wall and… and he…"

"You keep still and maybe this won't hurt as much."

Wasn't that what he said?

"…an-and there was nothing I could do, I…"

His free hand wandered down to his pyjama shirt and he reached inside, his fingertips running along the thin ridges that jutted out of his torso.

"They carved their initials into my body," he finished for his friend. "I'm so sorry you had to watch that-"

"Don't be," America snapped. "It's my fault for not helping you, Iggy. I should've done something. I should have gone Chuck Norris on those bitches! But instead I just sat there and watched those bastards cut you. I should've done something! I should've saved you, Iggy!"

"And allowed yourself to be hurt as well? If not even worse?" asked England in the voice a father might use for chastising his son. "America, if my memory serves me correctly, they had a gun. And they pressed it against your forehead. You wouldn't have been able to do anything if one of those sods put a bullet through your brain."

"B-But I didn't do anything anyway," America snivelled. "I'm such an idiot! How can I call myself the hero of the world if I can't even save one person?!"

"America-"

"And now you can't sleep! And you haven't slept in ages and there's nothing I can do about it! I'm useless, Iggy! I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, I should just go jump off the Empire State Building 'coz it's not like I can do anything!"

"America-"

"In fact, you know what? That's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna grab a taxi, go to New York, go up to the top of the Empire State and jump off. It's the only worthwhile thing I'll ever have done in my whole life and-"

"LISTEN TO ME, AMERICA!" England screamed. "YOU'RE FANTASTIC! YOU'RE INCREDIBLE, DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU'RE THE BEST PERSON I KNOW AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY YOU'RE HAVING SO MUCH TROUBLE REALISING THAT, SO GET BACK ON YOUR BLOODY HIGH HORSE AND STOP PITYING YOURSELF, YOU STUPID GIT!"

His rant was met with stunned silence.

"You don't have to take responsibility for everything that happened in that god-awful place," he said in a more quiet voice. "None of it was your fault. The Atlantis Incident was completely out of our hands, don't you realise that?"

America sighed. It was muffled. Probably covered by his hand.

"I still find it hard to believe that Italy of all people was the one who got us out of there," he said, and from his tone of voice, England could tell that he was smiling. "I thought he was dead. Hell, we both thought he was dead, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did," said England with a faint smile of his own. "We assumed that Atlantis had killed him. I know I didn't believe it until the wall exploded."

"Yeah, what was it you said when he did that?"

"'You were only supposed to blow the bloody door off' I think. You could have fitted an elephant through that hole."

They sniggered for a couple of seconds.

"England?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"What for?"

"Lots of things," said America. "For picking up the phone and still listening when you heard it was me. For listening to me. For being the only thing in my life which I can be 100% reliable on."

There was no doubt in England's mind that America was an idiot, but occasionally he could be the most adorable idiot on the face of the earth and somehow knew exactly what to say to make him feel better.

"You're welcome," he replied.

He cast his eyes to the window and noted that dawn was breaking outside. For the umpteenth time in as many nights, he hadn't had a single wink of sleep. This time, however, he was anything but depressed.

"Iggy?"

And now he was annoyed. He didn't understand the nickname and doubted he ever would, but decided to go with it.

"Yes, America, what is it now?"

"D'you wanna come and stay at my place for a while? You sound like you could use a bit of a vacation and I really don't want to be alone right now, so what do you say?"

The quote-unquote gentleman mulled it over for a little while, unsure how to politely respond.

"The thought of endless hamburgers and constant video games isn't an appealing one," he stated, "but I'm all for it if it means I get to spend some time with you."

"What's that about, Iggy? You got a crush on me?"

"Nothing of the sort! I'll be on the next flight to DC, alright?"

"See you then!"