So I went to Taiwan for the last fifteen days of December, and trust me, I would do it again in a minute. But, *sigh* so long since last update. I've been writing this for almost a year now and I'm only on Chapter 30. Friends and neighbors, we've got far to go.
Review! :D
Upon waking, France found himself in his cell, soaking wet. The inside of his head felt weird, like his brain would glop out of his head if he shook it around too much. He couldn't remember why, either, which was a sure sign of something. His limbs felt airy and disconnected, and when he thought to his foot it came back numbed. His temples throbbed, and after a few false starts, he could bring his hands to his head to rub them through is hair.
He made a face. My hair...It was matted and sticky and wet in a sodden flap on the back of his head. He didn't even want to think about what he looked like right at the moment. His looks were way down on his list of concerns, the first of which, at the moment, being, What happened to me?
There was a ridge all the way around it. He couldn't really see it, but he'd bet it was burnt-looking, like the tips of his fingers. His mouth tasted like metal, and he wanted to spit, but it was safer to deal with it with his throat the way it was right now.
He was in a room filling with acid, a crackling, darting leash keeping him pinned. The room was nearly full and he was gasping for breath in the half-inch of air left, then in the last panicked moments before he shut his eyes, he saw a smear of color, somewhat roundish, but possibly his eyelashes impinging on his vision.
France exhaled slowly, as not to disrupt the still-forming scabs. There was a niggling feeling he'd forgotten something important. All the triggers in his mind pointed to the smear. Somewhat oval-shaped, flesh-colored. Was it a smear, or was it my little Canada?
It was hard to distinguish between reality and fiction, with the way his head was ringing right now.
He'd raised Canada just as England had raised America. Spain and Portugal had come along and laid claim to various bits of that upper nation as well. If he'd remembered right, they'd all been looking for the northwest passage at the time.
He'd raised Canada, and then had to let him go...
And Canada's invisibility had strengthened , and it'd been harder to talk to him and spend time with him. It made him sad.
Canada came running in one day after being ignored, again. He was in tears. "France", he cried despondently, "why does everyone hate me?"
France, who'd been cooking, picked up him and said gravely, "I don't hate you."
The little Canadian sniffed.
"I know you don't, but why does everyone else? They don't listen to what I say. It's like I'm invisible."
"Then don't pay attention to them, either. If they don't or pretend not to notice someone as brilliant as you, then they're blind. Or just plain stupid." He paused and tilted his head to one side. "Especially England. His eyebrows probably get in the way." He gave Canada an affectionate squeeze.
"And to cheer you up, I made you pancakes! Your favorite!"
The little nation squealed with delight and threw his arms around the Frenchman's neck. "You're the best, Papa!"
France smiled.
It couldn't have been Canada. Canada was safe on Earth.
He hoped. No telling what those aliens had been doing. It was impossible to say.
France groaned, and then winced as the charred line around his neck complained.
White dust started falling from the ceiling. Slowly, but then with greater speed and quantity. It smelled sickly sweet, like overripe fruit.
It took him a moment to remember why this was significant. Another sign that his brain was scrambled.
He closed his eyes.
It'll be good to see you again, my friends.
Blurgle, I don't like this chapter, too much [probably incredibly htorical inaccurate] [and also just not-helpful at all] flashback that has about nothing to do with anything except be a filler because this chapter is otherwise France waking up and being in pain, not enough action, entirely too short for a non-update period of about a month ._. AND DID I MENTION THAT IT'S TOO SHORT
DON'T JUDGE MY GRAMMAR WITH IN THE SQAURE PARENTHESIS I DO WHAT I WANT
yep I didn't get enough sleep last night
(did you want that?)[shut up, round parenthesis]
Holy cannoli, I spelled 'square' wrong.
(did you want that, too?)[I SAID SHUT UP]