So I saw how many people were reading this story and favoring/following it. So I decided to update. Sorry I haven't been on here much. Trying to finish up graduate school. I hope you like this chapter! More to come!

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Chapter 8

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He tried not to run away from the two who were following. He tried to slow himself down. But it was hard to face them right now. And the worst part was he didn't know why! Why did he feel so convicted for what that creepy man said?

Ah!

Whatever!

He slowed to a stop. He didn't have anything to feel wrong about . . . right?

"Alfred!" Arthur stopped right behind him, out of breath from the run, "are you okay?"

"Oui," Francis stopped as well, a little more in shape than his former rival, "you left so quickly, we were worried."

Alfred didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to face them. Why did they care so much about him anyways?!

"Would you guys just leave me alone."

"What?"

"Just leave me alone!"

Both of the men jumped back with a start.

"Alfred –"

"I'm not Alfred! I don't want to be Alfred! I don't want to be America! I don't know where you two get off shoving this existence down my throat about being a nation, but I'm tired of it! I don't care –"

Alfred stopped. His eyes widened for a second, before he turned away, hiding his face.

Britain and France looked behind them. A certain Dane and a certain albino stood, waiting for a chance to speak.

"Hey you losers," Prussia sneered, "How about you two go get some food. The awesome trio needs some cool time together."

"Excuse me, but –"

France placed a hand on the Englishman's shoulder, "Come on. We need to eat anyways."

Britain huffed, somewhat defeated, "Fine." He looked back at Alfred, "We'll see you later, Al-" he bit his lip, "See you later."

Alfred did not speak.

Britain and France left, shoulders slightly slumped. Prussia patted France's shoulder as the other walked by. Denmark walked up to Alfred.

"Hey," he said softly, "Alfred."

The young man did not face him.

"What's the matter?"

Nothing.

Prussia came up on the other side. "Alfred. America. You might not remember this, but you, Denmark, and I were the best of buds. Well –" he smirked, "Drinking buds to be exact."

Denmark chuckled.

"But we always did tell each other nearly everything. It was a way to get everything off our minds. To stop ourselves from going insane."

"Ja," Denmark laid his hand on Alfred's shoulder, "so after all that time, we usually know when one of us is down in the dumps. So what happened to make you freak out like that?"

Denmark could feel Alfred's body slump, as if exhausted. In fact, looking at him, he looked exhausted. Whatever it was that put him on edge was finally taking its full toll on him.

"It . . ." Alfred started, "It was that creepy man. He cornered me when I walked out of the meeting. . ."

"What creepy man?"

"The tall one . . . he had a scarf on – " Prussia's eyes burned, " – but I can't remember his name."

"Don't worry about him," Denmark grinned, "he's just a jealous oaf, who's afraid of his sister. Whatever he said, he was either kidding or being very malicious just to spite you. Don't take it seriously."

Denmark took his hand off of Alfred, only to stop Prussia from leaving, grin still intact.

"Really?"

"Ja. I wouldn't dwell on it if I were you. But since you are looking a little tired," he pulled Prussia to face Alfred, "How about Gilbert take you back to the hotel."

"Uh . . . sure . . . but what about you?"

"I'll catch up with you in a bit. I have to talk to my brothers."

"Your brothers?" Alfred looked up, questioning.

"Those other guys I was with this morning. Guess you never met them formally."

"Oh. It's probably because of the girls cooing over everything we talked about."

Denmark's grin widened, "But you two get along now. I'll be there as fast as I can!"

As the two turned to leave, Prussia flashed the Dane a serious look. All he did in return, though, was smile. Same man as always. Kept a smile up.

Once the two were out of sight, said man took long strides towards the meeting hall. Luckily many of the nations had left for lunch. But a few were still left, including his brothers. But he ignored them, heading straight for Russia, a smile still on his face.

"Yo, Russia!" he slipped his hand around the man's shoulders in what appeared to be a side hug for those who did not know Denmark too well. Though his giant grin was still plastered on.

"What do you want, Dane? To become one with Mother Russia? Or to have your face beaten in?"

"Neither man!" He made sure his brothers could not see his face, "just wanted to talk."

"I don't want to talk to a grinning idiot like you. Now take your hands off-"

Denmark pulled Russia closer, speaking into his ear, "Let me tell you, Rusland. I will not tolerate you torturing America, especially in the state he's in right now."

"What America are you speaking of? North or South?" Russia laughed, a dark aura rising from his body.

"You know exactly who. America. Alfred. They're both the same. And he doesn't need you to make his situation worse. So don't hurt him in any way, shape, or form. And that includes physical, mental, and emotional."

"And what would you do if I did? Think you can stop me."

"Maybe, maybe not," he let his grin fade, if only for a minute, "but don't tempt me to bring in my brothers and other siblings. We out number you in both number and strength," Belarus was in the corner of his eye, looking viciously at him, "Especially since your old Union is disbanded nowadays. Don't forget that."

"Same as yours, Daniya."

"True. But mine still talks to me."

He moved away, patting Russia on the back roughly before laughing loudly, "Good one, Russia! I always love your jokes!"

Russia walked off, and so did Belarus – was she seriously stalking him again?

Denmark pushed that thought out of his mind as he looked over to his brothers, who were now coming over. Oh great. Now he had to deal with them. And Norway sure didn't look too happy.

"What was that about, Mathias Køhler?"

Oh great, the full human name.

"What are you talking about-"

The back of his head was smacked so hard, not only were his ears ringing, but his eyes were spinning. Norway sure had a way to make him pay attention . . . if the brain damage did not stop him first.

"Hey! Come on Lukas! I didn't do anything!"

"You were starting another fight, weren't you?"

"What?! No! Besides, you hitting me could start fights!"

He could see the veins on Lukas' forehead pulse. Uh-oh. The countdown already started.

He could try to stop Lukas from exploding and getting hit even worse than what he had been already. But that would mean telling what should be Alfred's story to tell. Though it might not matter to some, the Dane was very loyal to those he considered friends – more than just allies. He could not betray them, even if they never asked for him to keep any secrets or promises. He just knew when to keep his mouth shut.

That fist was getting ready . . .

"Nothing happened, Lu-"

He braced for impact, expecting a force like a boulder hitting the side of his head with the top speed of a rocket breaking through the earth's atmosphere.

. . .

Nothing?

"You know you shouldn't start shit! Especially if it embarrasses us in the process."

His eyes opened to reveal his brother rubbing his temples.

Better than getting hit.

"Um . . ."

This was a rare occasion indeed. . . He did not know what to think of it.

Norway sighed, "Whatever. Just don't do it again. Understand."

He rubbed the back of his head, "S-sure Norse. No problem."

Ignoring the Dane's wavering laugh, the other Scandinavians started towards the cafeteria. However, Sweden stopped just for a split second to give a stern look at Denmark – one much more intense than usual. The other stopped his nervous laughing, looking right back at him. He was pretty sure the Swede knew what had just happened . . . and probably even why.

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"So . . ."

"So."

"Do I really wear suits all the time, like . . . a legit businessman?"

"Only during meetings like these."

"Huh."

"Ja."

"And . . . what are these meetings for anyways? It just seems that no one really does anything . . . except talk and banter about each other."

Prussia snickered, falling on Alfred's hotel bed. Thankfully they were able to get a room key in . . . though he was sure the girl at the front desk was about to cry when she saw Alfred safe and sound. Guess she was happy to see him not in the hospital.

Alfred sat on the ground, picking through his clothing, trying to find something other than suits galore.

"So . . . who are you exactly? I mean . . . like . . ."

"In relation to you?"

"Yeah. . . you're not another brother or father or whatever to me are you?"

Prussia popped up, "Nah. I'm not your family like that. Just a friend who helped you once."

"Really?" Alfred looked up, "how?"

Prussia grinned as wide as he could at the memory, though he didn't know if Alfred was able to see, "Let's just say you were mad at Arthur for something, and we got him back. Big time."

"Oh." Alfred did not get the joke . . . if there was one behind the albino's words.

He finally found some regular clothes, and headed into the bathroom. Shutting the door, he was happy to throw off the suit and tie – whoever he was, that was just not it.

Prussia waited on the bed, looking around at the mess in the room. Alfred, America, was just like him when he was younger. Messy to a point. The nicer clothes were folded still, but the rest – dirty or casual or used – were strewn around the room. If it wasn't for his brother, Hungary, and Austria yelling at him non-stop since the last war ended, he probably would still have the same habits.

Prussia's thoughts were interrupted when a knock came from the door.

"So the oaf is finally here," he said, getting up from his seat and heading straight for the door. When he opened it though, "oh."

Instead of a tall, blonde Danish man grinning non-stop, there stood a small, light skinned Asian man. He looked like a stereotypical tourist, without the knee high socks and very clean sandals, as he held up a big camera and even bigger map.

"What's up, Japan?"

"I thought of a way to get America's memory back."