Sorry I'm later than usual with this. It's just that my grandma died...and I've been busy (read: lazy)...

When I first started typing this chapter, TPP was a Big Thing. Now it's not, but you should still look up Twitch Plays Pokemon anyway. Since the numbers have decreased from 100k to about 5k players, it should be easier to move Red. Praise Helix.

*mumbles* When other authors write fantastic little blurbs, I really need to stop stealing them...this time the victim is Michael Grant, another one of my favorites. Cookies for you if you can find the line.

Oh, and I'm going to be taking a longer break, because from March 26th to April 6th I'm going to be travelling again, China this time. Fortunately, it's a school trip, so all is paid for but the plane tickets. I might be able to squeeze out one more chapter before then, but don't count on it.

Enough small talk, review! :)

The eight nations were sitting in gloomy silence, each lost in his thoughts. The gray room was silent, but they enjoyed the presence of the others.

Several hundred feet above them in a separate room, a phone in a bin full of confiscated phones and other oddities rang, There were no aliens nearby to hear the ringtone, which was Beethoven's Für Elise.

In the other room, Spain frowned at Lithuania's phone. "He's not picking up."

As if on cue, the answering machine kicked in. "Hello. This is Germany. I can't come to the phone now because I'm busy working, tying Italy's shoes for him (sigh), or keeping Austria from siccing Hungary on my brother. I will call back as soon as I c- I'M AWESOMEEEEE!" Prussia's recorded voice shouted over the last two seconds of the message.

The real Prussia was lying on the ground, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. "That was...awesome..." he gasped out. "I had no idea he hadn't changed it..." Flicking away a tear that was most definitely from awesomeness and not at all from worrying about his brother, the Prussian said, "He'd taken my phone away for threatening to take a picture of Italy sleeping in his bed to blackmail him with. I told him I'd send it to Romano if he didn't give me enough money to go out that night."

"Doesn't Germany not want Italy in his bed, anyway?" asked Liechtenstein, who was woefully innocent of the implications of her statement.

"Yeah," said Prussia, laughter still in his voice, "but that's besides the point. Romano would've ripped him a new one."

"A new what?" Liechtenstein inquired.

"Nothing," interjected Spain quickly, correctly assuming that Switzerland wouldn't have wanted her to know. "Just give me a number to dial, Prussia."

Back in the gray room, Germany's boot suddenly began screeching DISCO POGO, DINALINGALING, DINGALINGALING, ALLE ATZEN SING-

It broke the silence like a boulder dropped from a thousand feet through ice. In other words, very well. Heads turned.

"That isn't my ringtone!" blustered the blond, who felt a strange desire to defend himself. "That's Prussia's-" Then he froze. "Prussia's phone is in my boot...because I took it from him and had no pockets...It's a phone. A phone!"

He scrabbled furiously at the laces. Italy jumped to help him, and for a moment, Germany marveled at the irony of it. Then the boot was off, and the thumping music was twice as loud. Germany answered the phone with his good hand, not sure what to expect. "Hallo?"

"It's me!" shouted a familiar voice that cracked with relief. "Hi, bruder!"

"P-Prussia?" sputtered Germany. "What? I thought you were dead!"

"Why would I be dead?" came the voice. "I've only been captured, not killed or tortured or anything."

But Germany was overcome, staring straight ahead at the dull gray wall. He'd been so sure, the dreams had been so realistic, that he wasn't even sure if he was in the fabric of one right now.

And in the first dream, his brother had died.

"Turn on video chat!" said Prussia, oblivious to his brother's struggles. "I want to see your face."

Bewildered, Germany complied. On the screen, Prussia's face appeared. It was already noticeably thinner than normal, and the silver liquid he'd vomited up had dried in streaks down his cheeks.

"Hey, bruder." Prussia grinned, albeit a little weakly. Germany was still taking in the fact that Prussia was alive, that he hadn't died after all, that the dreams that he'd had so many of were just lying, lying, lying. Gott sei Dank.

Prussia looked at Germany's face and sobered. "Why are you covered in blood? Is it your blood? Are you hurt?" He sounded panicked.

"I'm...okay, I guess?" said the blond almost dreamily. "But you, you're alive! I thought you were dead, but-"

"Yeah, like I'd die and leave you alone?" The albino scoffed. "I'm more likely to kiss Mr. Prissypants Austria than leave you by yourself. I stayed behind for a reason, y'know?"

"Germany!" said America forcefully, and the blond turned. "What?"

"I've only said your name five times," said the American. He would've rolled his eyes, but the sockets were sore. "Sheesh. But anyway, your tourniquet - bandage thing is leaking."

The German looked down. It was true; his jacked, wrapped around his wrist, was saturated with darkness and dripping blood onto the floor."Oh, scheiße, how come you didn't tell me this earlier?!"

"I tried, but you weren't listening."

America was ignored in favor of Italy. "Here, take this please. Italy, just hold onto it-"

"What's going on?" Prussia said through the phone. "Little bro, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay." All he was seeing on his end of the phone was a smear of colors as the phone changed hands.

"Hey!" said Italy cheerfully, his face blotting out half the screen like an oversized blimp. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, thanks," said Prussia, making an effort to be calm, though he'd never before hated the Italian as much as he did right that minute for obscuring his view of his brother, who needed him. "Could you move, please?"

"Sure." The cheery face drew away, and the camera was aimed in Germany's direction. The view meandered about a little, occasionally blurred to refocus, but was good enough. The raw mass of flesh on Germany's hand and his face, knotted with pain and sweat beading on it as he struggled not to make a sound as his mutilated hand was rewrapped. Then the view went black, just as Germany let loose a hoarse cry.

"Brother!" Prussia pounded on the screen with his palm. "Italy, pick up the phone! I have to see, have to help him..."

Then miracle of miracles, the screen was up again, and there was a fountain gushing from the mangled hand. The strong-willed German looked to have passed out, neck limp, eyes shut, face slick with an oily sheen of sweat. "Bruder!" said Prussia in a shrill voice that was nearly a scream. "Oh mein gott bruder what's going on are you okay please tell me-"

And on the screen the blood lake under his brother continued to grow, and Germany grew paler, and Russia had the blackish bloody cloth wound between his big hands and was wringing the blood out, flicking it against the walls and floors with a wet slap. Blood spattered free, and the less-soaked material was brought back to the hand. Prussia could almost smell the rust, the soft meaty stink that comes from an abundance of blood. He knew the smell well - they all did - and worried at his lip with his teeth.

Then his brother groaned, and the cloth was hitched up tight. Further experiment led to less leakage (as far as they could tell; it could just be that Germany had run out of blood to shed), and Germany was roused by Italy's voice shouting something in his ear. The blond opened his eyes slowly, Italy jumped back with a pleased expression on his face, and Prussia stared at the screen as hard as he could. "Bruder, are you okay? Who did this to you? Did they do it? I'll beat them up!"

"I," groaned Germany, eyes wild with pain, "I killed the thing that did it to me...but I may die soon because of it, and it will have killed me anyway..."

"No, don't say things like that!" His voice shook despite his best attempts to hide it. "You'll be fine, of course!"

"I didn't even know I had this much blood," Germany said in a voice of dull humor. "You learn new things every day, I guess." There were dark circles under his eyes - under all of their eyes, Prussia realized.

Now that Germany was stable, Canada poked the Prussian's shoulder. "I'm glad he's okay, but I want to talk to America and France." Canada said softly. "I need to know if they too are okay."

Wordlessly, Prussia passed the phone over, staring silently at his hands. Canada stammered out his thanks, and took the phone. "America? France? Are you there?"

"Canada?" America said in amazement. "You're here too? How?"

"I was on the rescue team."

"Why? Did you volunteer? Italy, give me the phone." The Italian meekly complied, and there was another blur of colors.

Spain leaned it. "Ah! Italy! Are you okay?"

Italy smiled, though Spain couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'm fine. A bit beaten up and stuff, and hungry because this food is nasty, but I'm sure that we'll have a plan soon to get out!"

Spain sighed in relief. "I can at least tell Romano that you're okay when we call later."

From the background, China said "Call later, aru? What do you mean?" But he was ignored.

Canada interrupted. "I was in a conversation, guys."

Abashed, Spain apologized and gave the phone space back to the other nation.

"Canada?" America repeated. His face was all the Canadian could see, besides occasional glimpses of France and China in the background. "Answer me?"

"I volunteered," said Canada again, steadily, "because I was worried about you."

"You shouldn't've done that!" America exploded, making everyone recoil from the suddenness. "Why did you even think of it? I can take care of myself! You should've stayed at home like any smart person would do, should've stayed safe! But noo, you just had to come throw your life away. And what for? To get trapped in a room? To-"

France was waving his arms at America to speak less forcefully, but it was like waving at a thunderstorm.

Canada cut him off.

"Because you're my brother, goddammit, and I'm not going to just give up and cry. And France raised me, England too, but you, America, are a stubborn idiot! You really think I'm just going to leave you here though I always end up standing in your shadow? Thppf." The Canadian made a sound of disgust. "You're even stupider than I thought you were."

America remained unmoved. "But-"

"Don't you get it?" Now it was Canada's turn to yell at his brother. "I care about you! I'm your brother, for crying out loud, and if I have to follow you up to space to bring you back, then I will!"

"B-"

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? I love you, okay? You're my brother, and I'd die before I abandon you."

And then there was silence as America stared at Canada, and Canada stared at America. Blue met violet, and America looked away first, groping for something to say. Strangely enough, the first thing to his tongue was Don't lie to me.

But saying that would've broken something, something precious, and he swallowed his words and instead decided to offer an incredibly lame 'Oh.'

"Oh," said America lamely.

There was another silence.

"Well," said England as smoothly as he was able, trying not to admit that even he, the supposedly heartless wonder, was touched, "who else wants to talk?"

"I want to talk to France as well," said Canada almost immediately, and in the background, France waved. America brought the camera over to him, and the blond smiled warmly into it.

"How are you?" asked Canada anxiously. "Are you all right?"

In response, France tilted the camera down to show the stained bandage on his neck, a crusty reddish brown blotch. Canada flinched, than shook his head vigorously as France reached for the tie. "You don't need to unwrap it, I'm all right."

The Frenchman nodded and offered a small half-smile.

"Why are you all so thin?" America burst out again. "Haven't they been feeding you?"

"No," chorused everyone in the other room.

"We're, like, totally being starved in here!" Poland added helpfully.

"Kind of a stupid question," put in Prussia.

"Sheesh, sheesh, just asking," the American muttered, and looked at his hands, which were still battered. His nails looked to be growing back in strong, though. He'd had to pull them out. They were too painful in their bent-back way. Even lightly brushing something sent a package of pain along the frayed nerve endings, and it was just safer to rip them out.

It'd hurt a lot.

"I really missed both of you," said Canada honestly, trying to direct the conversation back on track.

"I missed you too," grumbled America, though a smile was pulling the corner of his lips. "And I'm glad you're not dead. I mean..." He hesitated. Is it worth telling what the aliens have put into my head? I don't need to burden anyone unnecessarily. They'll probably laugh. And they probably should know that the plane is burning...

Fortunately for him, South Korea interrupted him and spared him the decision. It was a cowardly thing to do, to not tell them what they needed to know, but it would save him some...what? Heartache? Guilt? That's exactly what he was feeling now, now that his opportunity had passed. And who even knew if he would ever see Mattie again.

Whoops, he thought darkly.

"Hey, aniki, are you there?" said South Korea again.

China made a strong effort to play at the old game. No matter how much he wanted to run to the screen, peer intently at Korea's face to make sure he was all right, and then collapse into tears, he had a front to keep up. He wanted to keep his younger siblings unworried. Showing his true emotions would only terrify them. And he couldn't do that, because it was his job to keep them safe and happy. But since he'd failed in the first regard, he could at least do his best to keep them happy.

"Make him go away, aru, I'd forgotten how annoying he was." Feigning a lighter tone of voice than he felt, he reached for the phone a little quicker than the upper boundary of his façade.

"What's up, aniki?"

The question was so ridiculous and casual that China almost laughed. It was a question he heard almost every time South Korea visited him, and something so normal did not belong in circumstances such as these. But he closed his fists tighter on his mask. "Nothing really, aru." He tried not to act as if he were drinking in his brother's features. It was obviously only a dream, but it was a damned realistic dream, and he wanted to commit this living, breathing man to memory. "It feels hopeless, doesn't it?"

"Nothing's hopeless!" cheered the Korean. "Having hope originated in me, da-ze! And aside from that, what's with your eyes?" He peered at the screen, worry creasing his features. "It looks like you've got a thunderstorm trapped in there."

China lowered his intense gaze, and the tip of the mask to vent a little pressure. "It's just that...it's been ages, it feels like years. It's horrible, and with the dreams..." He shuddered. "You still have your eyes, and nobody's taken them...You're okay, though, and that's what matters, aru."

His eyes gazed into a middle world full of horrors, and South Korea would've sworn that at that moment he saw flickers of fire and blood in the mix of turbid emotions reflected in those gold eyes.

"Hey, hey, aniki! Come back!"

With a visible jolt, China snapped back to reality. "Sorry, aru. That happens more and more often."

"What does?"

"I go somewhere I don't want to be, and then I can't get out. I don't know what's real anymore, aru..." He had to clamp down hard to put the mask back on.

But South Korea had seen enough. His face sobered. "Aniki, I just spent ten minutes sewing up someone's back because she saved me. I mean, I've had this kind of experience before, with my own people, and it was hell, but this felt worse for some reason. Probably because I hardly knew her, but I have a connection with my people, right? Pushing a sharpened bobby pin through skin and muscle, but my hands feel too big and I ended up having to make the wound worse, wider, in order to fit my hands to sew her up, and her blood is still drying on my hands. If she doesn't wake up, it's my fault because I've screwed up and broken her. It'll be on me, aniki." It almost looked as if South Korea was about to cry, face brittle as stone. It was hard to imagine that face ever smiling, but he had, hadn't he?

Then he said, almost a whisper, "I don't want to have killed someone. Not another nation. Not even a person. But the blame will fall squarely on me..."

China's eyes grew darker skill. "Who is it, if you don't mind me asking?"

The Korean bit his lip, and his eyes flicked to Russia in the background. "Belarus."

As he'd predicted, the Russian erupted towards the screen. "What? My little sister has been hurt?" The Russian edged China out of the way, violet stare frantic. "How badly?"

China surrendered the phone and bent his gaze off into space. Germany watched carefully to make sure he "didn't go somewhere he didn't want to be". He'd never really associated with China much, but here, everyone was in the same boat, even if some chose not to see it.

South Korea was chewing his lip. He knew Russia really did care for his sisters, even though Belarus was kind of a terrifying woman. And Russia looked broken already, his eyes literally splintered with veins of dark purple pulsing violently through the lavender. It made him look demented. The Korean didn't want to make things any worse than they already were, but he didn't want to conceal information from him, either.

"Please tell me." The lost, sad tone in his voice finally swayed him; that and the threat that if - no, when, he corrected himself harshly - they met up again Russia just might murder him. "Here, you can see." The Korean turned the phone's camera around, bloody fingers infringing onto the view momentarily.

Belarus was still, lying on her back. Her platinum hair was in her face, but that's not what Russia noticed first.

The back of her dress was careful folded back around the injury, exposing it in all its bloody glory. Her skin was pale, in contrast to the jagged, lumpy, ugly scar twisting over her spine. The pink messy stitches were hardly visible against the bib of dried blood.

"Bela..." Russia slumped back like a balloon with its air let out. "Моя младшая сестра..." It looked like he was breaking apart, even as South Korea watched. Just dissolving into little pieces on the inside, and he wondered if he'd actually made the right decision here. As well as that, there was the ever-present guilt, what if I screwed up, and then for inflicting this much pain on the Russian.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't stitch her up better," he blurted. "I tried, I really did, and Spain helped, but we're not good at it, none of us have great healing skills, and-"

"No," said Russia, eyes fixed on the scar, "You did all you could, дa?"

"Yes, but it doesn't look like it's going to be enough."

"You may have saved her life," said the Russian gravely. "So I thank you, and Spain. Because of you, she'll have a better chance at living."

"But it's my fault!" South Korea repeated, not sure why Russia wasn't getting mad at him. "She saved me, and she ended up like this."

"She protected a friend," said Russia firmly. "And friends are precious. I mean it. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the black-haired nation replied. Sensing the conversation was over, Russia withdrew. It wasn't fire that got you, Bela, and I should be grateful for that, right?

"I, like, want to talk to someone," said Poland.

"Hi!" said Italy brightly. They began a pointless yet cheerful conversation about their typical subjects, ponies and pasta.

It's amazing, thought Germany, how unworried they are. Then the memory of Italy screaming in hysterical fear at his touch rose up again, and he choked it down.

He considered Lithuania and wondered absently if the brunette'd had the same sort of experiences dealing with Poland as he had with Italy.

He refocused on their conversation in time to hear Spain say, "You hear that sound? Estonia's calling us back C'mon! Sorry, Italy, but we're planning to arrange a new method of escape with the ones on Earth, so-"

"Tell Romano I miss him!"

"And my family, aru!" China roused himself from his nightmares.

"Tell the gorgeous ladies I'll miss them!" croaked France with obvious effort, cringing with each word. But Spain was glad to see him talk.

"Tell the Baltics I'm sorry," said Russia quietly. "And tell Ukraine she's still the best older sister in the world."

"Will do!" Spain chirped. "But I do have to hang up now, so hang in there! We'll get you out soon!" His voice was pumped with hope.

Click

The screen was blank except for the words Call Disconnected.

The one in Spain's room had no way of knowing that as soon as they hung up, the aliens appeared in the other room, inflicted a great deal of damage, and smashed Prussia's phone to pieces so small it'd be impossible to put it back together again.

Translations: Gott sei Dank - Thank goodness.

Моя младшая сестра... - My little sister...

(at least according to Google Translate, which means it's a lie)

Welp it's now 12:05 AM I'd better submit this and get off to sleep