Tragedy
England had never cried so much before. In solitary confinement however, it was unavoidable. The dead silence, the horrid darkness, it was overwhelming. At first, he fought back the tears, telling himself he was stronger than that. He swore that he wouldn't let them break him. After three days, he had become an emotional wreck. During his long hours in the small room, England had quite some time to catch up on his thoughts. He would think about the hallway outside, Zak, or his nation friends. He thought about his doctor, and his own eyebrows. He convinced himself that he was not crazy, repeating it again and again in his head.
"I'm not bloody crazy," he muttered.
It was difficult to contain all of his emotions at first, and he eventually just let them run wild. Munsun had grown irritated of the constant insults at both meal and bathroom times. England had eventually thrown a punch at the hulking man. He knew it would have severe consequences, and it did. Munsun had requisitioned a strait jacket for him, and the doctor had happily signed it off. The only time it was removed was while he was in the loo, and it was very bothersome. England constantly complained about it, but Munsun just laughed at him and said that it was fitting he be in one, as he was insane. England just snarled at him. He had been dreaming again as well. He noticed that his dreams were recurring, but it didn't bother him. When he woke up, he remembered the details vividly, but after about five minutes, he had forgotten most of it.
It was around noon of the fifth day that something strange happened. England had been sitting in his cell, wondering just why the bloody hell it was so cold in an insulated cell, when a noise erupted from the hallway. It was brief, but he was sure it was there. He strained to hear something, anything. He pressed his ear to the door and listened.
"What am I doing? These cells are soundproof," he whispered to himself angrily, then lay back down.
After a moment, it was there again, very faint. It was shrill, and unsettling. It made the hairs on the back of England's neck stand up. The door flew open, and a distressed looking guard stood there. Red lights were spinning in the hall, and very loud alarms were blaring at brief intervals. Guards, nurses, and doctors were scrambling through the hall, shouting. The guard was pulled away, and England's doctor came in and wrestled cuffs onto his wrists.
"You are needed in Mess Hall 3, Mr. Kirkland!" the doctor shouted, and pulled England out.
"What the bloody hell is going on? Let go of me, git, explain this!" England yelled, struggling against the doctor.
"Zakhar has escaped Sector 4, and has demanded to see you. You need to follow me," the doctor said impatiently, dragging England down the hall.
He gasped. Zak had escaped from Sector 4? Wasn't that impossible? A dozen questions ran through the Brit's head, but all were unanswered. It had all happened so fast, the reality of the situation had barely triggered in England's mind. The chaotic scene unfolding around him was the first he had ever seen occur in this hospital. The doors to the mess hall loomed ahead. England began to sweat, wondering just how he was involved in all of this madness. When he was brought into the room, a horrendous sight met his eyes. Zakhar was pinned against the wall, twenty or so guard against him, steadily holding pistols at the man. Zak saw England, and his eyes sparkled.
"My friend! Glad you have come, this situation has gotten out of hand."
He spoke so calmly, even with twenty fully loaded weapons aimed at him.
"Zak, what is this about?" England asked in disbelief.
Zak motioned for him to come close, to speak with him. England glanced up at his doctor, searching for approval. The doctor responded with a shove, throwing England into the circle, facing Zak. He glanced in worry at the weapons, but Zak just laughed loudly.
"Do not worry about them, they won't shoot. Have to avoid a lawsuit, eh?" Zak said, pulling England in.
"What do you want? Please?" England pleaded.
"I know who you are," Zak whispered into his ear.
"A man of great power, of the government. I was once as well," he said hurriedly.
"How do you know that?" England asked, surprised.
"Because I ask questions, because I am different from the rest. Escape is your only option Arthur. Escape now, or you will be here forever," Zak breathed, gripping England's arm tightly.
"How- I don't-"
"I will throw myself at them. You will have about fifteen seconds to run for the hallway. You will be caught," Zak said, sounding as if he had rehearsed this entire speech.
England's heart pounded in his ears, and everything felt hot. Zak spoke through a tunnel, so it seemed. This could not be happening.
"Find my file, in I-5. I left a legacy here today, and you will do the same."
In a fluid motion, Zak flung England from his person. He flew forward, screaming curses and madness at the guards. A stream of gunfire erupted from their barrels, and bullets pounded into the Russian's body. Both England and his doctor cried out "NO!" in unison. By the time Zak hit the floor, England had bolted for the door.
"Stop him!" the usually boring drawl of the doctor was broken by anger.
England ran as hard as he could, as fast as his legs could carry him. He broke into a sweat by the time he had reached the end of the hall. But he kept running, sprinting towards I-5. He had reached the door handle, when someone grabbed his shirt.
"No, dammit no!" England shouted as he was thrown to the ground.
Munsun looked furious, as he began to beat England with his fists. He curled up protectively, sobbing. As Munsun hit him, he attempted to crawl to the metal door of the information room. Soon, the doctor, and others were there as well, all assisting in subduing the screaming, cursing man. England flung his fists, kicked out, and bit at the foreign hands surrounding him. He caught the gleam of a needle in the doctors hand, and ferociously kicked it away. The needle clattered to the floor, and England scrambled towards it, desperate to get the upper hand. His arms were quickly restrained, and a sharp pain filled his left shoulder. The hallway became hazy, the many faces blended together, and he slipped into sweet unconciousness.
XxXxXxXxXx
An emergency meeting had been called in by France, which Germany had approved. The subject of the meeting was not of world affairs, but rather, of their current situation. Their failure in London had determined France to continue pressuring England's bosses. He had come up with a few ideas of his own for appealing to them, and releasing England. Some of them were reasonable, while others were simply wild fantasies of heists and break-outs. The usual conference room in Paris was used, an elaborate hotel that France found very homey. All of the nations that had attended the meeting in London were present, as well as a few others who supported the cause. Germany announced that France had the floor, and he stood, brushing golden locks out of his face.
"Everyone, I'd like to thank you all for joining us. Angleterre's hospitalization has gone on long enough, I think we all agree."
There were nods across the room, and France was satisfied.
"Several days ago, we tried to appeal to the Prime Minister. However, we were unsuccessful. I have personally seen marks on Arthur's wrists, and believe they may be abusing him..."
There were sharp whispers and accusations among the countries, anger increasing. The very aura of the room became darker.
"I think, that if we could prove this, we could have Angleterre released. Think about it, the hospital would be shut down as well, saving many humans from the abuse as well," France said, confident in his speech.
Germany cleared his throat and stood.
"It is a rather harsh, and serious accusation, France. This should be treated with caution," he said, shifting his tie.
"Why can't we just bust him out? Like, CIA or something?" America questioned.
"Because the facility is legal," Germany said, "and we must not do anything rash. You must think of world affairs as well, if England's bosses were angry with any country..."
"Ve-, they could get mad! Those guys have been hurting all of our countries," Italy said.
"Exactly," France said, "they have completely re-written their trade laws. They have severely limited them, Angleterre has faced recession. Amerique, you know what it's like."
"Yeah, it sucks. We need to get him out of there, so the world can get back on track."
"We need a warrant," Germany said.
"Then we will get one! Hospitals creep me out anyways, aru, I don't like them," China said.
All of the others began to talk as well. The only one who had not said a word was Japan, and France had noticed.
"What do you have to say, Japan?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Japan looked surprised, and spoke nervously.
"Well, I'm not sure... I mean, Britain did act very strangely at my home... Chasing something around my yard that I could not see, talking to himself. It was disturbing," he said.
This caused an uproar, the nations all turning on the poor Japanese man. It wasn't until America launched himself at his friend in anger that Germany begun to scream.
"Enough nonsense! We will not fight amongst ourselves over this affair, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. America, I thought you were more mature than that, but apparently not. We will get the warrant, and we will investigate. If the hospital has no evidence, there is nothing to do but wait. Now, settle down and return to your individual rooms, this discussion continues tomorrow when we have that warrant! Dismissed!" He screamed, irritation and anger exploding into a screaming fit.
Everyone fell silent, and started to file out, one by one. America muttered an apology to Japan, and walked out with his head down. France looked at Germany timidly. The German had put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples.
"Even with England hospitalized, they still fight. I still have headaches at the end of meetings, and my economy is going downhill. I feel congested, exhausted, and irritated." He looked up, his eyes bloodshot.
"The faster things get back to normal, the better it will be for all of us," France said comfortingly, patting Germany's arm.
"Yeah, it will. So, what happens if we get the warrant? How can we prove the wrongdoings?" Germany asked quietly.
"We will have to see for ourselves. I don't like the look of Angleterre's doctor, I think he might try and stop us. We won't let him," France said, a cold look crossing his face.
"Yeah, he's a shady character. We can't let him get to us."
"We wont, Germany. We wont."
XxXxXxXxXx
Nobody said a word about Zak the next day. Life in the hospital had returned to normal, and England had been released from solitary confinement. He was transferred from his original cell to a quieter, more secluded section of the hospital. It was much higher security, with guards posted at every door, and making rounds in the hallway, but apart from them, it was mostly silent. The patients in Section 3 were very withdrawn, mostly just sitting and making up stories in their heads. England lay on a white bed, which was rather uncomfortable, but at least he had a bed. It was like laying on a fluffy cloud compared to the lumpy padding of his solitary confinement cell. England thought things over, playing through the intense events of the previous day. Zak had somehow escaped Section 4, and had told England to find his file in I-5. He had been shot, and England was unsuccessful. England had, at first, asked several of the guards about the events, but they had just stared at him with raised eyebrows, confusion on their faces. England knew it was a facade, it was impossible for everyone not to know. The other prisoners did not seem to know either, but how could they? Some looked at him in silence, and others bowed to him, a sign of respect.
It was strange, the looks he got. He had asked about Zak, but nobody seemed to recall who he was. He asked about Section 4, and everyone said that they had heard of an escape, but nothing more. They did not say who had escaped, just simply said 'there was an escape' and left it hanging at that. It irritated England that they could not be forthcoming, but he continued to press on. They relentlessly ignored him, avoiding his gaze, or bowing at him. It was quite bothersome.
In Socialization, nobody said a word to England. He sat in the corner of the room, watching the others. They left him be, just like before. Well... before Zak. Even though the Russian was absolutely terrifying, England couldn't help but mourn his passing. The mess hall he had died in was open for business the next day, with no trace of blood, bullets, or struggle.
"Bastards really covered this up," England said as he got his food.
The guard asked him if he was feeling alright, and England retorted with the fact that no, he was not fine, and that his damned friend had died before his eyes.
"You don't talk to anyone in here though... Who do you mean?" the guard asked, scooping a bit of stuffing onto England's tray.
"Zak, you bloody git. Bastards killed him, they... right over there," England said, pointing at the wall.
The guard did not respond, but gave him an odd look before waving him along. England pouted. Clearly, the death was confidential. It was murder, after all. Munsun was in the mess hall that day, and approached England. Nobody paid a second glance at the hulking guard.
"It wasn't real, crazy man," he said, sitting down next to England.
He let out a low growl, and Munsun laughed.
"You know you're crazy, don't deny it. What do you really want in I-5?" Munsun asked, prodding England in the ribs.
"It's not your business," England hissed.
"It is one hundred percent 'my business'" Munsun said haughtily.
"Go away."
"If you insist. You wont find it, anyways. It wouldn't be in there. Not I-5, no. Try looking elsewhere next time." Munsun grinned before lumbering off.
This statement had deeply upset the Englishman. Had Munsun just tried to help him, or was he just being sarcastic? He waved it off as Munsun's stupid sense of humor, but wasn't entirely sure. What if Zak's file really wasn't in there? England didn't have much time to process the thought, however, as a new presence joined him.
"Maybe it isn't in that room. Maybe it's in your doctor's room."
England turned. The new voice was very familiar. It was Captain Hook, his gruff English accent twinkling with happiness, and a sense of care-free. England turned and stared at his tray. If anybody caught him talking to himself, it was back to his cell with a tranquilizer in his arm.
"You need to see for yourself, Britain. Check it out. Tinkerbell and I have been talking. We think its a conspiracy," Hook said, resting his arms on the table and smiling at England.
"I'll check if I can. It's not safe Hook, we can't talk now."
However, when England turned to glance at his enormous pirate friend, he was gone. England closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy," he repeated again and again.
But were all a little crazy... right?
A/n: It's been a few days since I've updated :o im sorry! also, this chapter was intense! I liked writing it, and it may seem a bit confusing right now, but never fear! I have a story plan worked out, and it will make sense in later chapters :) muahaha, off to write more fanfiction!
ps: thank you to all who reviewed! It means so much to me when I get online and check, and I have wonderful comments! It really makes my day, and I cant help but crack a smile when each review is read. Thank you! :D