I woke up on the floor.

I honestly don't know how that happened, especially without me noticing, but it did. I didn't bother thinking about it. That seemed to be the best thing to do as of late; don't think about how it happened, just focus on something else. Kind of like what I had thought just before I got into this mess…

The blinds were drawn, so my room was dark, but the digital clock on the nearby dresser told me that it was almost noon.

…Wow.

Okay, I know that it's normal for kids my age to sleep in that late, but, it's already been mentioned about my sleeping patterns.

And then, of course, I was still recovering from that whole incident that nearly caused me brain damage. Just gently touching the bridge of my nose hurt like heck. Then again, I figured I was lucky that, if anything, I was probably getting away with a scar. Wrenches aren't meant to be thrown at people…

Anyway, I untangled my feet from some sheets that went down with me and headed to the door. Go figure, when I opened it, a random piece of paper fluttered to the ground. I eyed it oddly. Why there was a piece of paper in the door was beyond me. Unless…

Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was a note. It was a note for me, starting off saying that Arthur would be back by noon, how he thought that I had enough wits about me to not screw things up at his place and blah, blah, blah. I skipped the second half. I crumpled up the note and shoved it in my pocket to throw away.

Then I immediately headed down to the kitchen. Seeing as I had kind of quit my dinner half way through, I hadn't had much to eat the day before, and, therefore, I was supremely hungry. I explored the cupboards and drawers looking for breakfast food. In the end the only thing I could find was bran cereal, and I went into despair.

Now, as has been mentioned before, my sense of taste is terrible. Someone could lather a chicken in paint, and, while I may notice something is a little… off, I wouldn't be able to tell what and, frankly, probably wouldn't care… Until I start suffering from cramps and realize that I'd been poisoned.

But that's mainly for lunch and dinner. Breakfast, on the other hand, is a bit more special. It fuels the day. A sucky breakfast isn't nice, especially for me. You see, I've got this thing where my body seems to have realized that breakfast is made for sugary goodness, not healthy stuff that's bland (as well as preferably food that is actually meant for breakfast). Therefore, I must have it. However, if there should be no sugar cereal around, I'll settle for something that's colorful, because, typically, colorful is equal to sugar. But it needs to be prepared already, or at least simple to make. That's a rule that applies to everything that I eat. I'm lazy and I don't care. Haters gonna hate (In this case, my mom). So bran cereal naturally didn't fit the bill.

I could've had what I believe was leftover pasta, or Chinese take-out, or whatever the heck was in the fridge, but I really wanted cereal… or ice cream, but I didn't find any. The past few days had sucked. I felt deserving of at least that. Cereal, I mean.

Hence how I ended up in the basement; looking to see if there was a storage room of some sorts down there. He had a pantry upstairs, but still…

I kind of felt like a snoop, but really, there was nothing wrong with looking around a little, right? Okay… maybe there was. Some slight guilt tugged at my inner being, so I decided that I'd only open two doors. That shouldn't be too much of a problem, right? Yeah… I mean, Arthur was leaving me alone at his house. If anything, this was his fault for not being there. Yup, if he got mad, it could only be at himself!

I opened the first door, hoping for shelves of food. Whether or not there was, I couldn't tell. The room was pitch black. I slid my hand down the wall, only stepping in from the door a few inches, feeling for a switch. I was unsuccessful. I tried again, this time feeling a greater area. Before I could get very far, a voice called out.

"Hullo there!" I jumped and let out a little yelp, causing the voice to begin to laugh before various torches around… what appeared to be some sort of goth library… I quickly tried to take it in, before whipping around in the direction of the voice. Then I nearly screamed.

A-a ghost… A freaking ghost was floating toward me!

…Okay, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad, if he had, you know, looked decently like a well human instead of someone who had just died in a chainsaw accident… The way the lower half of his right arm just dangled… suspended by strings of muscle… and that giant slice across his neck… I shuddered, closing my eyes. I was definitely not one for gruesome sights… not in real life…

When I opened my eyes he was right in front of me. I let out a whimper and stumbled back. The ghost flew up to me again and put an icy hand on my shoulder. My knees buckled, and I knew that any movement other than my trembling would cause me to collapse. I looked up at the bearded one as he gave me a friendly smile.

Oh gosh… the way the gash in his lips split… I closed my eyes again, turning my head down. A loud laugh rang out, but one most definitely not like Alfred's.

"Aw, c'mon kid! Just give me a chance! I'm not going to kill you!" Of course not… I cautiously opened one eye, looking up at him, just to wince and close it again. This guy scared the living heck out of me.

"Seriously kid, stop being this way! Look, I'm a good guy! I'm not going to curse you into eternity! Look, if you need me to swear on it then 'cross my heart and hope to die…' if you will…"

His hand slipped off my shoulder as he burst into a bout of snickering. "Get the pun?"

Why, yes, I did get it. But if he thought I was just going to immediately lose all the terror I was in just by telling jokes, he was wrong. However, he was able to ease the tension a tiny, tiny bit. I opened my eyes and tried to look at him without my gaze wavering too much. Ghosty smiled. I trembled a little more, but forced myself to keep looking.

"That's the spirit, m'lad!" I nodded slightly, a frown still on my face.

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyy! Why're you being such a bore today?" A younger looking translucent man –one in much better condition- floated up behind the other one, grabbing his head, for whatever reason. The first ghost sighed.

"Look, the kid's practically pissing himself just from seeing me. Do you think I'm going to be cruel to him?"

"No… but that's because you've grown soft."

"Is there anything wrong with being 'soft'?"

"In your case, yes."

"Shut up. I don't care."

"You're totally abusing one of the most classical privileges of you're very existence!"

"Traumatizing children is a privilege?" Ghost two grinned hugely.

"Indeed!"

There was the sickening sound of flesh being moved around as ghost two practically ripped the first ghost's head off. I couldn't take this anymore. My body now apparently working again, I bolted out the door and clambered up the stairs, out of the basement.

I collapsed on to the floor when I got to the kitchen, my heart rate shooting through the roof (though I think most of that might have been from me running up the stairs). I glanced behind to make sure that they weren't following me. When I was fairly certain that I was safe, I slithered to the table and heaved myself into a chair, where I promptly placed my face into my uncontrollably shaking hands, trying to calm down. It took awhile, but finally I was able to decently get ahold of myself. Then I was reminded by my stomach why I had gone down there in the first place.

I lifted my head, catching a glimpse of the salad stuff that I didn't finish the night before. I reached across the table and pulled it to myself. It wasn't the sugary goodness that I deserved, but it would do for breakfast. I really didn't feel like getting up… and definitely not opening any doors. I didn't want any more headless ghosts trying to "befriend" me. Still slightly shaking, I dug in.

I peered through the slight bit of window that I had uncovered from the still drawn curtains. Well, the guy-chick outside certainly looked alive and well… that was good. I was still pretty disturbed by the whole incident earlier on, and when the doorbell just rang out like that in the silent house, I had freaked out. It didn't help that it had happened right when I was dozing off on the couch, either.

I cringed as another wave of nausea hit me. About a half hour after I had finished my meal, I had started feeling gross. Hence why I was trying to sleep on the couch in the first place after I had just slept until noon. The thought of it being because of the food roughly crossed my mind, but I was pretty sure that wasn't it. The food was fine before, surely it must've been fine now. I must've conveniently caught some sort of random flu virus.

I looked up again and… Oh frick.

How long had the guy on the doorstep caught me stalking him?

I let the curtain slip and scrambled back on to the couch. I hoped dearly that he had just thought that I was I weird reflection off of the glass.

My hopes were crushed as I heard four loud knocks followed by an accented voice. It wasn't British, though. I could tell that much.

"Oh, Angleterre…" he sort of half-sung his sentence, "I know you're in there!"

…

…Who the heck was Angleterre? This guy was clearly mistaken and knocking on the wrong door. I wondered whether or not to stay silent. If I stayed silent, maybe he'd go away. I really didn't feel like talking to people that I didn't know in a city that I had never been to before. But then, I didn't really want him coming back looking for the wrong guy… Especially if Kirkland still wasn't back yet.

Well, poor him and poor me. If he didn't leave me alone I decided that I'd ignore him until Arthur came back. It would be his own fault for being an idiot.

…But what if he was a hundred percent certain that I was here? Even if he was looking for the wrong guy, he knew that I was here. What if he waited? That would be creepy and stalker-ish after awhile, but still… Maybe I'd just open the door and tell him to look elsewhere and then close it again before he could say anything… That could work… There wasn't much talking and it got the point out. It was rude, but it could work.

…And then I'd feel like and utter idiot. I sighed. If he wasn't a stalker, he was probably gone now, anyway. There was no point in planning if he was gone. I got up and staggered to the door. I didn't feel like peeping through the window again, in case I was caught once more. If the creep was gone… then good. If he wasn't… then I'd figure it out then.

I unlocked the door and cracked it open and tiny bit. He was gone. I sighed with relief, shutting it again. I shuffled back to the couch. He had better not come back… I curled up, the position helping me feel a bit better somehow.

…But then the phone rang. I groaned and sat up. The world was out to get me today, wasn't it?

I reached over and grabbed it, looking at the caller ID. I wondered if it was Arthur. That stupid idiot hadn't bothered to give me his num-

Oh wait… maybe he had… on that "useless" note that I had thrown away earlier… Shoot.

I shakily answered, just in case. Needless to say, my eardrums were nearly blown off as soon as I pressed the talk button.

"ENGLAND YOU FRICKIN' SON OF A B - - - -! WHERE'S MY CAR AND WHY DO I KEEP GETTING PHONE CALLS FROM PEOPLE SAYING THAT I OWE-" I hung up and slammed the phone back into its stand.

Nope. That wasn't Kirkland.

I eased myself back into position. I decided that it'd be best just to leave everything to Arthur. I'd just leave everything for when he got back. Yep. That sounded good.

The phone only rang once more, and then everything left me alone. In the silence and my pain, I drifted off into la la land.

When I woke up the curtains had been opened and the sun was shining right in my face. So, when I opened my eyes, it burned like heck! I squeezed my eyes shut again and went to shield my face with my hands, but apparently I had shifted to the edge of the couch in my slumber, and the movement caused me to fall off, smacking my ankle on the nearby coffee table in the process. That paired with the impact of the –definitely not soft and cushiony floor, caused me much pain, which I obviously did not like.

I hissed and sat up, but that placed me right in the sunbeam again, so my eyes burned twice. I cursed and ducked back under the safety of the table's shadow.

"Are you alright?" I heard (an actually bemused) Arthur say.

"JUST CLOSE THE FRAKING CURTAINS!"

I raised my head again, this time without being scorched. I murmured a quick thanks and heaved myself back up onto the couch. I was able to sit up easier now. The flu virus seemed to be gone and I felt much better.

Arthur walked up to the table and lifted a teacup in which I had missed seeing and thankfully didn't hit when I fell. He stirred it with a little spoon. How British…

"So… I'm presuming someone visited, seeing as how the door was so wisely unlocked when I got back…" He took out the spoon and took a sip, looking at me expectantly.

Whoops. I must've forgotten to after I had checked to see if the creeper was gone.

"Uh… About that… There was this creepy-guy chick at your door, and he caught me stalking him…" I saw the hand holding the teacup twitch.

"You didn't let him in, did you?"

"O-oh no… I didn't. I was actually going to tell him to leave, but by the time I got around to doing that, he was gone… Oh, but, when he saw me, he was all like," I imitated his sing-song voice, "'Angleterre, I know you're in there' so I think he was looking for the wrong guy."

Arthur sighed, setting down the teacup. "That 'Angleterre' would be me…"

"Is that a nickname?"

"You could say that…"

"What a stupid nickname." I didn't get it at all. The only thing it had in common with the name "Arthur" was that it had an A and R sound. Besides, weren't nicknames supposed to be shorter or more pet-like? Honestly…

"That much is true." Okay, so Arthur didn't like the nickname either. That was good. "…But why exactly were you 'stalking' him in the first place…?"

"T-that was because…"

"Bonjour Angleterre!"

Well, what a coink-a-dink.

The Brit whipped around and the Frenchman just strolled in like he lived there. I found that to be kind of odd, seeing as he had knocked before. Then again, I was at least thankful that this wasn't how he had made his first appearance. I wouldn't have known what to do at all.

"Get out of my house…" The way Arthur spoke told me that if Frenchie made one wrong move he was screwed. Fearing the same went for me, I sat still and remained silent. Meanwhile, Frenchie just continued on in, as if he heard nothing. He sat down on the other end of the couch, crossing his legs. The way Arthur glared at him made me want to weep.

"You had better have a good reason just to walking in like that…"

Frenchie chuckled. "Don't worry, I do."

He cupped his hands, and then opened them to reveal… nothing. I looked at him questioningly while Arthur continued to glare.

"You see, this morning I woke up and I heard this little 'tap tap tap' on my window. So I looked out and I saw this little fairy." He nodded down to his still empty hands. Was I supposed to be seeing something? "So I let her in and she said "Merci, Monsieur! I am locked out of Iggy's house and can't get back in!" Iggy? Seriously, what was with these names?

"She told me that you had far too much to drink last night, and that's why she left." Say what? I honestly doubted that Arthur had been drinking last night… If he even did drink. I mean, I was there, and he had a meeting today… Oh. It all came together. Everything this guy said was to screw with Arthur for fun.

"She said that you…"

Before he could finish, Arthur back-handed him… really, really, really, really hard. That's not an exaggeration. He hit him hard enough to flip him over the armrest and on to the floor. I gaped in silent horror.

"You can just shut your mouth, you bloody frog!"

Not two seconds after he finished, Frenchie had gotten up and decked him in the face.

"That hurt, mon amie!"

Arthur was back up before I could even register that he was down.

"That was the intention!"

As he said that, the Brit performed some sort of ninja trick in which he kicked Frenchie's face. However, Frenchie had somehow gotten ahold of Arthur's collar within that time span, and the two went down together, just to be up again in the time span of a blink.

After awhile, I began to wonder if they even remembered that there was a young man watching them… And whether or not I should've phoned the police.

I honestly thought that someone was going to be dead after this. Whenever someone flew across the room, I freaked out.

…Maybe I'd just go sob in my room… No. I still had my ghost paranoia. Maybe I go sob just outside of my room… I reached over and wrapped my fingers around the nearby phone. If I was going to cry upstairs, I wanted to be able to call 911 if I heard some sort of haunting scream of someone losing their life.

Unfortunately, or perhaps not, right as I lifted the phone out of the stand, a much bigger person crushed me into the armrest, nearly knocking the wind out of me. He moved quickly enough, though, and the pain subsided pretty fast. Even so, this was not my week was it?

"S-sorry…" I heard Arthur stutter, and the next thing I knew, Francy-pants was by my side.

"Look at what you did, Angleterre! You hurt him!" He cried, though something in his voice told me he didn't actually care about me all too much, and he was just using this as an excuse to screw with Arthur a bit more. "Are you alright, mon lapin?" I felt his hand run through my hair. It was a really creepy feeling.

"I-I'm… fine…" I meant that in terms of physical health. My mental health had been screwed up for awhile now. The fact that the two, other than being a little roughed up looked pretty fine and in decent condition didn't really help my thoughts. The Frenchman continued to stroke my hair as he turned back to Arthur.

"By the way, what is this kid doing here?" I stiffened, though I wasn't one-hundred percent sure as to why.

"T-that's because… I-it's none of your business!"

"Ohonhonhon… It isn't now, hm?" That laugh… It sent chills down my spine… Bad chills.

"It's not!"

"I don't really see why. Unless…" A creepy smirk began to form… He was smirking creepily while stoking my hair… I shifted uncomfortably. This was getting weird.

"Look, all it is… it's… it's a favor for a friend!" I kind of wondered why Arthur was making excuses, but then I figured my story was still pretty messed up.

"What an interesting favor…"

"Shut up!"

"Oh, and, since when did you have friends?"

"At least I've more than you!"

"Lies…"

Arthur stood up, and I thought that the death match was beginning again. But he just smacked the other's hand away. I silently thanked him for that.

"Stop being perverted!"

"There's nothing wrong with showing affection to a child…"

"With you, there is!" Arthur glared daggers at him, but Frenchie was unfazed. "If you're only here to taunt me, then leave, or so help me, I'll make you regret you ever dragged your sorry carcass in here!"

Frenchie continued to smirk. "Such cruel threats…" Then he turned to me, the smirk turning into more of a friendly smile. (Except that I was still kind of afraid of friendly smiles…) He pulled a folded envelope out of the pocket of his pants and handed it to me. "I honestly don't know how this got to my place, but I don't feel like asking. I'd give it to Angleterre personally, but…" he nodded towards the Brit, "I'd like to take my leave without any more bloodshed."

So… basically, the point of this visit was to drop off a letter? I glanced over to Arthur, who looked even more pissed off than before.

"Land sakes!" he cried, "You could've just re-sent it!"

Then in a lower tone he added, "That way I wouldn't have had to see you're disgusting face…"

Wow… that was mean. Frenchie didn't seem to care, though.

"Oui, but…" he gave a long, slow wink, "I felt like… as you put it… 'taunting' you today…" With that, he dashed out of the door –in a strangely feminine way… kind of like me, I realized, ashamedly- leaving a seething Brit behind. I set down the envelope down by the teacup which miraculously hadn't moved a millimeter since it had been set down, and scooted out of the room while Arthur glared at the door.

I was a little curious as to how exactly glaring at the door helped matters, but I didn't ask. I didn't want to become the Frenchman's replacement.

"Bloody frog can die…" I heard Arthur grumble as I crept up the staircase. I glanced back a little uneasily and continued on my way. When I got to my room, I slowly opened the door, holding my breath. I was still really paranoid, but I kind of figured I'd have to brave it sooner or later. Besides, the tension downstairs was so thick that you couldn't cut it with a knife…And there wasn't a computer in this house. Or, at least, one that I had found and had permission to use.

If this guy didn't have a computer he was lost… No, seeing as he was a millionaire, if he didn't have a computer, he was a lunatic, that somehow wasn't a lunatic because he was a millionaire.

My room proved to be ghost-free so far, and I stepped in. I quickly skidded over to the bed and sat down. No ghosts came to greet me. I let out my breath. I was pretty sure that I was safe… for today, at least.

"Hey there!"

I jumped, but calmed down considerably when I realized that it was just Minty.

"S-sorry…" he…er, she… it muttered when it saw that it had scared me.

"Don't worry about it…" I looked up at it as it somehow stayed in the air without flapping its wings. "Uh, Minty…" I felt a frown tug at my lips, "This isn't the norm is it?" Minty sighed and landed on my lap. I would've pet it, but the eerie feeling of having my own hair stroked was still fresh in my mind.

"Yep. You'd better get used to it."

"…Seriously?" Minty nodded.

"Come to think of it, they were beating each other up a few hours before you came." Frenchie was at the meeting too?

"Aren't they going to kill each other someday, fighting like that?" Even though they were fine after that fiasco, I still feared. Also… that was how they fought unarmed… I feared what would happen if one of them got ahold of a knife…

"I highly doubt it, if they're not at war, they won't." I hoped that World War 3 didn't roll around until I was dead. Of course, unless I died young, if I was dead they'd be really old… Whatever.

"Well, I'm going to go see Arthur now."

"Oh… okay." I watched the green mint bunny flutter through the door. Then I sighed, lying down on the bed, just to jolt back up again. A new thought had hit me. I wracked my brain for evidence against it, but there was no such prevail. Interesting…

During that entire visit…

Despite every word that was said…

I still had not the slightest clue as to what "Frenchie's" name was!

That was so queer…

Notes: First and most importantly; I'd just like to point out that the sickness was, in fact, due to the salad. Much to the dismay of my OC here, the dressing used on it was far past it's expire date. That fact did not effect England, though it did to Erin, but not until the next day, in which the food molded over night. Obviously, Erin didn't notice! XD

Anyway... I thank everyone who's read, favourited, and watched this story! I'm really sorry this chapter took so long to get out... And then my chapters are always so short... I'm going to try to update every week from now on and really, really work hard on improving my writing! I appreciate all of the praise comments, but I know there is so, so much I need to improve...

So, pretty please review! Both criticism and praise mean all the world to me!

...But, you know, seeing as how I want to improve and all, I would really like some tips... I've read your works, lovely reviewers! You guys are freaking amazing! So, if you don't mind... Thanks!

(Oh, and... uh... call me a goody-two-shoes if you care, but language will probably always be censored out the way it is in this chapter... So there probably won't be too much of it, because I think all that censoring would get annoying to read, and I don't have the guts to cuss... ^^;)