When Canada went down, Russia was the first to act. The rest of the fools obviously had no idea what to do, so he'd grabbed the younger Nation and headed to his own rooms, swiftly dealing with the idiot American when he tried to interfere along the way.

The only good thing that had come out of the little argument the rest had decided to engage in was that his momentary panic, which honestly had confused him as he hadn't thought he really cared about the other violet-eyed nation, had been replaced by logic.

His reaction before had been to send the honey-coloured blond to the hospital and call for an ambulance but that couldn't be done. For one, humans did not have a special weakness, which Russia was sure must be connected to the younger nation's sudden turn for the worse. After all, it wasn't near cold enough in their meeting room to send even the thinnest skinned individual out of them into mild hypothermia, let alone the full-blown case Canada was presenting with. Point number two was, of course, that Nations heal much too fast to be considered even slightly normal should whatever this was resolve on its own within moments of arrival, but after his initial condition had been seen. So no, Canada simply could not go to a human emergency room. Like with all Nation problems, this would need to be dealt with internally.

They were in his room now, and Russia's hands went through the practised motions of doing everything he could to make sure the Canadian was warmed up, he even called General Winter in to draw all the cold out of the room so that even he had to abandon his precious scarf or risk staining it too much with his sweat as the room heated up to sauna-like levels.

As he worked, his mind wandered. He'd had plenty of opportunities to use these skills over the years. In a country as cold as his own, he had grown tired of watching his countrymen lose their lives. If he could, he'd tried to help...whatever the other Nations claimed, he wasn't heartless, just uncertain and distant in the mind from everyone. He had other things to occupy him...normally.

But then 30 minutes, then an hour, then another hour passed by with no change in the Canadians complexion or symptoms. Thankfully, he didn't appear to be getting worse. Still, Russia's mask cracked. By the time it hit the hour and a half mark, he was even muttering to the blond how he needed to become better, please, that he couldn't die on him.

And he got better. Slowly, so slowly that Russia didn't notice at first until on automatic, he took the blond's temperature again and saw what it was, and what it meant. The blond was no longer in severe hypothermia. He was nowhere near in the green yet, but this was finally improvement instead of worsening.

It was only then that as he stayed there working and yet still thinking about the issue and what could have possibly brought it on that it occurred to him that the blond had gotten better when he was talking to him.

So he kept going. Telling him about how he did care, even if he tried to hide the truth from himself as well as everyone else. Because, well, why not be a little more honest than usual? The blond was still unconscious. He wouldn't hear.

Finally, when it was almost starting to become 3 hours after he brought the Canadian to his room, Russia heard his breathing pattern change and just slight languid movements.

The blond was no longer completely unresponsive.

30 Nov 18

I didn't like the old chpt 2, so I replaced it.