The old mansion that the nations used for World Conferences had been falling apart. The roof was leaking and had been for years. But recently there had been panels in the walls falling away at the touch, and no one really went up to the topmost floor anymore for fear that their steps would cause some new devastation. "This is so fucking stupid," Alfred muttered. They were gathered in front of another, unfamiliar building. "Where did England run off to?" "Maybe he's with Germany," Italy said, floating behind him. "He's gone too."

"D'you have any idea what's going on?"

"No, ve…"

Nations nearby gave the two countries withering looks and then ignored them, for the most part. The Swiss air was tanged with cold from the nearby Alps, and Alfred shivered and pulled his jacket closer about him. He could feel Russia's gaze boring into his back. It was as if there were holes being drilled in his spine and he was losing his ability to stand straight. He turned around, half-meeting Russia's eyes, and gave him the finger.

Just as Russia was opening his mouth to respond, England stomped into the group. He glared around. "A'right, we've got the conference hall ready. Come along." With a final glower, he spun about on his heel and stamped back to the new building. The nations trailed after, some beginning to get the picture. America was not one of those few.

"So, what's going on?" he muttered out of the side of his mouth, quickening his pace to walk alongside Japan. The slight Eastern nation gave him no reply. England glanced behind him and gave him a scathing look. Alfred grinned innocently, and continued cogitating. "Ohhhh!" He eventually realized. "So this is the new World Conference building!" He was ignored, and Alfred shrugged.

They filed into the main conference hall and sat around the table. England, Germany, and Switzerland stood at the front of the room. Germany cleared his throat.

"As I am sure you all have noticed, we are now in the new and improved World Conference site that Switzerland has been kind enough to give us the use of." Here he paused and attempted a smile at Switzerland. The Germanic gave a cold nod, and narrowed his eyes around at the conference. Germany swallowed and tried to return to his train of thought. "I…ah…we hope that this becomes as treasured as much as our old one." He sat down, and was followed by Switzerland. England remained standing, and he tapped a gavel on the table.

"Let the World Conference begin."

After three hours of alternating lively and dull discussion, Alfred was happy to finally be leaving. The joy he felt after closing the doors on the conference was suddenly replaced by nervousness. He didn't know every nook and cranny of this building… Didn't know where to hide…

He sighed. Despite his minor fear, he was bored. So bored that it felt as if his brain was trying to jump out of his skull. God, he had to find something to do…but his ride back didn't leave for another half hour. And Switzerland was so dull…and scary. You never knew if the blank looks on the people were real or if it was just a façade. They must all be secretly members of this national Swiss SWAT team or something cool and scary like that. Entertained by this fantasy, Alfred grinned and leapt up in the air, brandishing finger-guns at invisible enemies. "I am so cool."

His make-believe game was interrupted by a familiar voice around the corner. Alfred flattened himself to the wall, smirking as he eavesdropped shamelessly.

"I'm serious! You look almost exactly like John Lennon! Before he grew that beard, 'course. But you do! You've even got the nose!" England's strident tones rang through the hallway. Another well-known tone replied.

"That's funny. Do I?" Russia's innocent, amused giggle sent a jolt of terror through Alfred's heart. His mouth dry, the American began creeping as silently as possible down the hall.

"Yes, you do. I mean, you're blonde, and Russian, but—stop laughing! I'm serious! It's almost creepy." Alfred realized he was leaning against a door, and shoved it open. He staggered into the room, and looked around. Bright lights. White tiled floor. His own red face looking back at him with fear in its eyes. Good. The bathroom.

Alfred pushed open a stall door, thankfully barely able to hear the noises of England and Russia's conversation outside. He flipped the toilet lid down and sat. His watch told him he only had twenty minutes to wait. He pulled his sneakers up on the seat and waited.

It was ten minutes later in linear time and an eternity in Alfred's mental time when someone pushed the door open. He paused, fiddling with the unlit cigarette in his hand. The footsteps clicked nearer, and Alfred realized the stall door was unlocked. The steps stopped almost directly in front of him. A vein of ice ran through his stomach. It melted in relief as the other person turned on the water. Evidently, they were only washing their hands. Alfred flicked his lighter and lit the cigarette.

After a few drags, he already felt the trembling vanish from his body. He barely noticed when the person turned the water off, and ignored the strange sniffing sound, as if they were smelling the air. Then the footsteps came closer.

Alfred sat up, staring fearfully at the door. He could see a pair of dark brown boots right in front of the door. Someone took a deep breath. It's the smoke, Alfred realized. He can smell my cigarette smoke. He had a strange premonition, as if he could see right through the door, into a pair of staring violet eyes.

The door was pushed open. It creaked slowly to reveal the two to each other—terror in Alfred's soul, surprise in Ivan's face.

The Russian moved too quickly for Alfred to see, and he was abruptly hoisted off the seat into the air. Ivan was gripping the lapels of his coat, almost choking him. His eyes were glowing, bright with surging emotions. Alfred did not dare to move.

Ivan pulled him closer, and Alfred turned his face away. His heart was fluttering in his throat, and it leaped up to his mouth as he felt Ivan's breath on his bare neck. There was a tightness in his chest that kept him from crying out.

Ivan's mouth was almost on Alfred's neck. His breath was warm, deep, and trembling. His fists clenched tighter on Alfred's lapels. Alfred bit his lip, trying not to look into his eyes, denying his feelings.

He was suddenly thrown forcefully to the ground, and Alfred felt his lenses snap. Catching his breath, he heard the footsteps run away. He opened his eyes. Without his glasses, the closest thing he could focus on was the dropped cigarette on the floor.

He lay there, staring at the cigarette among the broken glass, until his body stopped protesting Ivan's flight.

He was late for his ride.

Okay! Here's another chapter for y'all! There was a snowstorm on Saturday, so basically the entire town lost power...Thankfully, we got a generator hooked up so we have heat and glorious internet. [worships] Anyways, please review!