Black or White 5

The next day, he sat beside Scotland staring at the red head.

His dream was on his mind as he thought deeply. He had forgotten parts of it. The bits he did remember were pointless or blurred. However he remembered a flash of crimson in his dream. Thought it had been unfocused, England felt like it held a slight likeness to Scotland's scarlet spiky hair. He had maybe dreamt of Scotland.

He also felt that this was a memory; being simply too vivid in some areas to be a dream.

"The corpses shall be switched." The voice spoke again at the back of his head.

Since his nightmare, the voice was now crystal clear and more persistent; hearing it more often. A quick and quiet whisper that only he could hear.

Though he did not think himself mad despite this; he was sure there was a deep meaning behind the words.

A secret power.

A connection to his past that remained unknown.

This he was positive of.

However, the meaning of the phrase was still a mystery. With no context, it was impossible to identify its meaning. It could be talking about anyone, anything, anywhere in anytime of his past! And he apparently had a long past.

He rubbed his eyes slightly, still tired. His night was restless. He wondered who the other 3 blurry men were that were in his dream along side his brother.

He couldn't see any of their features, just black blobs. Maybe they were the other three brothers.

But they had attacked him right!

The red blob that could be Scotland looked like he was attacking the blobs as well…

They couldn't be his brothers right?

Though he didn't really consider any of them his brothers because he couldn't remember them. They seemed so forein to him. Were they even his brothers?

He was so confused.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice the auburn haired man sneaking up on him.

"Hey Iggy!" He yelled suddenly grabbing the blonde's shoulders.

England screamed loudly in shock, turning to see… uh.. North Ireland!

He glared at the man.

"Gawd, ya scream like a wee girl!" Paddy laughed out, plonking himself down on the second chair next to England. "Tha other two went tae see ya first but I guess yer here instead."

"Yeah… I guess I am…" England said awkwardly, unsure of how he was meant to be reacting to the man.

"Hmmm…. Ye seem kinda really serious. Whit's wrong, Iggy?"

"What's Iggy?"

"A nickname fer ye."

"Ah."

The blonde decided he didn't like the name and wondered if he like it before the memory lose. He doubted he did.

"Dinnae distract meh though. I ken it's easy but please dinnae." England blinked in surprise. He had gotten the expression that this man was overly cheerful and dipsy; however he seemed serious at the moment. "Whit's wrong?" He asked again.

England didn't really want to tell a stranger that he had a nightmare. It felt weird...

However North Ireland looked so expectant that it was hard to refuse.

"I had a weird dream… I think it was a memory…" North Ireland grinned.

"Really? That's bar~"

"That's barry!" He was joined by a second Irish accent as Ireland and Wales entered.

"Uh… But it was a nightmare…"

"Really?… That's nae so barry…"

"What about, England?…" Wales asked quietly, walking around to the other side of the bed. He gulped, surrounded by strangers and feeling nervous because of it. He had only come to Scotland's room because of the dream. If it wasn't for that he would have remained in his room all day. After all he didn't know anything about the red head. It felt awkward forcing himself.

"I'm not sure… Most of it was blurry…" He mumbled, feeling rather pathetic about what he was saying.

The others just kept waiting for a proper answer. England sighed slightly. Telling strangers about a dream seemed weird but he did supposedly know them. It couldn't hurt to act like they were his brothers for a little while. He even sometimes called them brothers. And when he regained his memory and they turn out to be his brothers; it won't matter anymore.

Still... Telling strange unknown people these private thoughts was embarrassing...

"Well…" He started unsure. "…It was a nightmare of a red haired man and me, I am pretty sure that it was Scotland… being attacked and attacking these three other men dressed in black I think… Or some else might have been happening, it was all blurry. Suddenly there was a lot of pain... Then there was a white light that becomes black…" He trailed off quietly as the other three men stared at him.

To distract himself, he stared at Scotland in turn, watching the bandaged chest slowly rise and fall. Clear drops of condensation had formed on the inside of the plastic mask which supply him oxygen. The heart monitor beeped in the back ground steadily. The consciousness monitor was largely silent; showing that Scotland remained deep in his coma. The sickly food substance moved slowly through the clearly tubing. He tried guessing how long it would take for Scotland to heal from this.

He also wondered who Scotland was once again.

And also why he felt like he should be Scotland instead of this man. Sometimes when he sees his blonde hair, he is still shocked that it isn't a bright scarlet.

"England…" Arthur didn't reply to his name at first, unused to hearing and answering to it.

"England?" North Ireland nudged the blonde back to attention.

He looked around at the faces of the men around him. Wales looked concerned, Ireland looked displeased and North Ireland was smiling cautiously.

Were these the faces of his brothers? Does he even have brothers?

"I wouldnae bother think too much about tha dream. Ye and Scottie fought against each other a lot but ye fought side by side tae."

"Aye. That nightmare could be any point of yer history." England glanced down, feeling disappointed.

"Who attacked me then?… I mean the three men in black…"

"I dunno. Ye kinda have had a long list of people trying ta kill ya." The blonde suddenly looked up in alarm.

"What!" He cried out, glancing at the door.

"Uh."

"Don't people like me?" He asked panicked. He didn't want people trying to kill him! Why would they want to kill him! What did his past self do?

"They dee! Lots of people like ya!"

"Then why are they trying to kill me?" He yelled in panic. Was his life in danger at this very moment?

"Not any more! This was over a century ago! Now a days is very peaceful!" North Ireland yelled back, panicked by England's naturally unhappy reaction to finding out people had tried to kill him.

The English man was standing up, subconsciously getting up after hearing the startling news of possible murder. He was breathing very quickly.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he flinched violently like he was being attacked. He spun to see Ireland, who looked cautious and guarded. It seemed the Irish man was wary of being attacked by the terrified blonde. He also looked rather pale, stressed and exhausted looking. England sat as he felt pressure being increased on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

Arthur was considerably much more calm again. Though he still felt edgy surrounded by these men who could easily be lying. Why did he come to visit this red haired stranger again?

"So no one is trying to kill me at the moment?…"

"Nee. Yer perfectly safe."

His breathing slowed. He soon realised how rash he had acted. He was being silly. He wasn't in danger so he just needed to calm down now. And apologise of course for behaving so… aggressively…

"Sorry about that…"

"Tha's braw. We said some… unsettling things.. Sorry as weel." Wales spoked gently.

"I just don't want to die… I was worried. I couldn't remember if people wanted me dead or not…"

"Of course not, ye haff amnesia. Ye cannae remember anything."

"It was a shock. I never thought about people killing me before." The blonde mused slightly.

"And ya dinnae haff tae, Iggy." North Ireland grinned back.

The men remained for the next half hour before visiting hour ended again.

During that time, the four spoke casually.

England spent most of the time staring at his Scotland, begging for his mind to jolt and for him to remember something. No one had bothered rebandaging the X marks. They didn't need to be since they weren't bleeding but he wished they did.

The X was haunting, reminding him that something was wrong other than his memory.

He noticed that the cut on his cheek was no more healed. He asked about that and Wales looked concerned.

"I dinnae know. It should haff healed by now, even jus' a bit but it still looks so fresh." The Welsh man's warm fingers ghosted over the wound. He examined it careful with blueish green eyes. England blushed, disliking the closeness of the unknown person. He knew that he was meant to know Wales but he didn't. He simply does not remember him.

"Don't you think it is strange that it looks like Scotland's as well?" England pointed out.

Ireland blinked in surprise, peering at the exposed cuts that stretched up Scotland's arms and the one on the cheek. "Fuck, they are tha same!"

"Whit does tha' mean?"

"Two brothers gitting tha exact same injury on tha exact same day in different countries at tha same time."

"This is moore than fate…"

"Even endin' up in tha same hospital."

"That's less fate and moore our boss's deeing, Paddy…"

"Fate…" The blonde mumbled unsure.

What an odd thought.

It had to be more than fate.

This was too weird.

This time England left with the three men though; feeling more exhausted than yesterday and not wishing to stay with Scotland any longer.

He was just a stranger who coincidently appeared in a blurred dream. A stranger in a coma. He did not know the man and it felt weird acting like he did. It just made him more tired...

That night he dreamed again.

He was walking down a quiet street again.

He suddenly stopped, hearing the low thudding bangs again nearby, still not controlling his bodies movements. His body jolted as it obvious recognised the strange sounds. He looked around confused, trying to pinpoint the location and identity of the bangs. He mentally flinched as a single word drifted through his thoughts, answering one question and bringing a wave of terrifying fear to the surface.

Gunshots.

Suddenly 3 people, men judging by how they appeared, rushed around the corner. One had a knife while the other two had large bags, bulging slightly. They all wore masks, black clothes and hide their identities. They looked so comically similar to the stereotypical bank robber that it was almost laughable.

Almost.

Then he realised, these were the blurry people from his previous dream that suddenly attacked him. This was his memory again but this time, he was seeing the next part.

The men saw him as they ran.

"Move out of tha way, ya stupid geezer!"

"Din't bother tryin' ta stop us bastard."

The blonde couldn't help but think, 'Gladly. Just please don't hurt me.'

However his body had different ideas. Rather than side-stepping and letting the strong looking criminal men pass, it threw the newspaper violently at the closest man disorientating him. The robber made a small ooft~ in surprise which was quickly followed by a scream of pain. The black umbrella had been slammed into his face with considerable force.

He heard a crack and soon blood was gushing from the nose of the robber.

England heard himself talk in a strange strong English accent. "Sorry, old chaps. I didn't quite hear that since I'm such an 'old geezer'." It felt weird hearing himself speak but not controlling it. Especially when it was so snarky and sarcastic...

He didn't consider himself to be someone who would speak in such a snide manner. Then again he didn't consider himself someone to violently attack and give a robber a nosebleed...

"What tha fuck?"

"Is this dope tryin' ta be a fuckin' hero?"

"Din't matter! Just bring him doon before tha police show up." The man with the knife lunged at him and the blonde mentally panicked.

However his body gripped the umbrella like a sword by the handle and attacked back. It seemed he could fight. How lucky!

Though with three men, all armed with knifes, attacking him, a shorter unarmed man, he seemed at a disadvantage. He felt the occasionally burn of cold metal grazing his soft flesh, cutting him shallowly.

However it seemed he was mainly winning, despite the cuts that were slowly adding up, especially on his arms. So he was a great fighter; especially with a sword. Or umbrella in this case.

England still moaned mentally at the pain of the knife cuts though, wondering why his stupid body couldn't just let these dangerous people pass. At least it hurts less than yesterday in the dream...

Knight in shining armour.

The thought drifted through his mind briefly.

Was he or had he been a knight of some sort?

Before he could guess or finish his thought, the world suddenly blurred again. It sped up like last time; making him feel ike he was having motion sickness.

A fourth man appeared with a flash of crimson. Scotland! He seemed to be helping though it was hard to tell by how the world drifted in and out of focus.

The dream world sped up more and suddenly there was an explosion in his ears.

Agony ripped though his head and he screamed.

Everything turned the cleanest of whites then into the purest of blacks.

The voice suddenly spoke clearly again.

"The corpses shall be switched."

(A/N - Lots of people are suspecting the X shape cuts. Lots of people are also suspecting that the robbers or at least one of them is a witch/wizard. Lots of people are also making similar theories. As always - I will say nothing!

I have two special call-outs at the moment! First - my favourite recent theory. Banboorain - I seriously loved it when you said that your theory was that a robber used magic to try and change Scotland and England's location and memory but instead switched their minds as well.

YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE TO COMMENT ON THE FACT THAT SCOTLAND WAS FOUND IN EDINBURGH AND ENGLAND WAS FOUND IN LONDON!

Fantastic job for remembering that fact! Seriously! I thought no one was going to question the fact that these men were found in completely different places. Did no one else notice this or find it odd?

Banboorain also had a second theory of the evil organisation but she (I assume you are a she?) also said she did not like that idea. She also complained about the shortness of each chapter. Mwuhahahaha! I shall only reveal information in tiny chunks with small only 1500-ish word sized chapters.

Good news - this chapter is 2500ish words and the next chapter is 4000+ words.

After that it goes back to being short again.

Second call-out to a certain Amnesia fan - STEPHANOOOO. God I love that horror game and I can't believe someone else likes that game and reviewed me.

Me and X did a joint Letsplay on it. Mostly it is him playing while I swear, say snarky things, point out perverted moments and criticising X and things to cover up my fear. That game was truly terrifying. I sucked at it as well - I usually play console games so PC games are not my forte. I kept slamming the doors open into my face and I could not grasp the concept of using the mouse instead of a joystick.

I only recognised that this guy was an Amnesia fan because of the Pewdiepie reference in his name. I like Pewdewpie's Letsplays as well as others. However I played Amnesia before watching Pewdiepie so what he called Stephano, me and X called Minius in our videos. I expect lots of hate for that later but I kinda don't care. I'm not Pewdiepie so I can call the statue whatever I want.

PS - *Brofists back*

PPS - Pewdiepie's signature move is a brofist but he did not invent it.

PPPS - For people who are confused Pewdiepie is a Swedish man who makes his living by filming himself playing games (AKA - making LetsPlays). Amnesia is his most popular series I think. He is a big Youtuber and really famous in gamer circles. He made a bunch of online memes - including Stephano.

Sorry for the ridiculously long A/N as well.

REVIEW PLEASE!)