11

When England woke up his head was pounding and there was a foul taste in his mouth. He reached up to rub his eyes, which felt like they were burning, but somehow his arms couldn't move. No matter how hard he tugged his arms would not budge and when he opened his eyes and looked down he found that they had been bound with bungee cords and so were his feet.

What the hell was going on?

There was a sound from across the room, a muffled cry, and he looked up. France. It was France looking disheveled and frightened. His hands and feet were tied as well and he was also gagged. He seemed confused and he kept trying to speak through the rag in his mouth, but England couldn't make out a word of it.

"What?" he asked, still a bit groggy.

France said something and then squirmed in his bindings. A noise made him stop and he looked over to a set of stairs. At the top a door had just closed and a figure stood with his back to the two of them, locking their only way out.

The figure turned and came down the steps and onto the cold cement floor. And England couldn't believe his eyes. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. And yet there he was standing before him. America.

"Good to see you're awake," he said. "You know it took a lot of work to get here before you did."

"B-but," the Brit stammered. "I thought you were…"

"Dead?" asked the blond. "Yeah, long story."

"But how did you-"

"Shut it," he said. "Don't talk so much or I'll have to take away your speaking privileges like I did with France."

England nodded silently. The nation in front of him smiled a bit and then went over to France who was looking a bit more than terrified. He knelt down and whispered something in his ear that made France's eyes go wide and then he stood and when over to England.

He knelt down so close that he could smell the nation's breath and could see that his eyes were a shade too dark. He licked his lips and spoke quietly. "Don't ever ask questions. Don't ever talk back. Don't ever ignore me and you will be safe." He sighed. "But do anything, say anything, and I can't guarantee you anything. Now, did you tell anyone where you were going?"

England swallowed and shook his head. "Good." He stood up and went back over to the stairs. "Don't move a muscle. I'll be right back."

He disappeared through the door and England heard it being locked. He looked at the door for a moment more and then turned to examine the room. It wasn't much. The walls and floor were made of cement and the only door was now locked. There were two windows, both situated just under the ceiling and only a few inches tall, definitely not big enough for a man to fit through. Off to the right was a workbench with nothing on it but dust and a chewed up pen.

The bungee cords, stretched to their limit so that they dug into his skin and it felt like he was leaning up against a large pipe. But if he moved around a little his fingers could just touch the small knot that connected the ends. With a shrug of his shoulders and a quick tug he had the knot between the palms of his hands. He began to roll it carefully in the hope that it would loosen.

A small noise made him look at France. The blond was saying something beneath his gag and shaking his head vigorously. Normally England would have just ignored him, but their situation and the sound of footsteps above head made the Brit agree that now was not the time for escapes.

The door opened noisily and America appeared again. In his arms he carried three bowls and three bottles of water. He set a bowl and a bottle on the workbench and then went over to where England was seated against what felt like a large pipe. He set down the bowls and bottles and told England to lean forward.

The Brit complied and the other nation disappeared behind him. There was a short sharp laugh and then he said softly, "Trying to escape, eh? I'd better keep my eye on you." And then to England's surprise he felt America's fingers undo the knot in the bungee cords and the pressure on his wrists subsided. A pair of arms appeared around him and the bungee cord was strung around his middle instead and then around the massive pipe so that he was able to move his arms, but not stand up or move around.

The nation went and did the same for France and after making him promise to be good he untied the gag. Then he retreated to the workbench where he pulled himself up to sit on it. "Dig in," he muttered.

France took the food silently and ate without complaining. England took the bowl, just within reach, and looked at the contents. Vegetable soup. He looked over to America who was eating cheerfully. He seemed to notice the gaze and looked over to his captive. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said. "I'm kind of short on supplies right now, but I'll get some more stuff in a bit." He went back to eating, but England didn't.

Instead he set down the bowl and took a deep breath through his nose. "Listen," he said. "I think I can help. You just have to tell me what happened."

America looked over at him, but said nothing.

"Really, I mean it. I know you made a mistake and I'll admit it was pretty big, but I can help, I mean it. I know I've been ignoring you quite a bit for the past week or so and I'm sorry, but I was just trying to-"

"The past week?" he coughed past a mouthful of soup. "You've ignored me ever since you got me. So thanks for the apology, but I think you're a century or so too late."

"W-what?" England stuttered.

The other nation sighed and rolled his eyes. He then got off the table and came over to crouch down in front of the Brit. "I'm not America," he growled.

Not America? But then who – Oh. But how was that even possible? Although now it seemed so incredibly obvious. How had he not seen it before? The hair that was a bit too ragged, skin a bit too pale, and eyes, not a shade too dark, but a shade too violet.

This wasn't America. This was Canada.

Bet you didn't see that coming. Both the killer and the fact that I updated so quickly. Twice in two days? What is this trickery? So yeah, no one gets cookies, but the people who guessed America get half a cookie. I'll explain why in the next chapter, which you will have to wait another week for. I'm sorry, but it has to be this way.

Do not own Hetalia.