Another ridiculously short chapter. Thhpffgrg.

Review! :D

After the longest time, Lithuania sat up. He wasn't sure if he'd been asleep or awake. It was all the same if his eyes were opened or closed, because both times his best friend and the nation he loved weren't here, and everything was hopeless.

He had to find them, to bring them all back. Maybe everything would be better, then. The rescue team had gone up, and the aliens had them now, but what about a single, solitary nation? What about me?

Lithuania swung his legs out of the small bed and opened the door. It was darker here, in the upper levels of the house the three Baltics shared, and earlier, during the quake, a few walls and ceilings had sprouted a couple cracks. Despite the fact that the house appeared mostly intact, when he set his feet on the ground, it creaked ominously, and he decided the sooner he descended, the better.

He made his way downstairs on tiptoe, but he heard no voices. Were they taken too? he wondered tremulously. A moment later, he assuaged his own fears. No, there was going to be another meeting, so that's where they must've gone.

The Lithuanian rounded a corner and nearly collided with Ukraine's back. She was staring down the front hall, her brow furrowed, and she sighed, murmuring to herself. "They told me to find him, but how can I find him if he isn't here?"

Having just unwittingly informed the brunette to her reasons for being here, she sighed again. This one sounded considerably more damp, and he recognized this tone of her voice. Ukraine was an infamous crybaby. He'd learned that much from Belarus's rantings. He felt a bit guilty for making the nation cry, but he had to get them all back. He was on a mission.

His conscience spoke up then. You know, you could leave them a message to know where you've gone...

Lithuania thought of his friends, and felt guiltier still, thinking of how panicked they'd be when he was nowhere to be found. The nation retreated back along the hall (it was a long hall, the front one, and it ran straight to the back of the house), to the room he'd broken the flowerpot in, and noticed a bit ruefully that the plant was in a new green vase. They're too good to me, and I'm leaving them.

He scrabbled in his pocket for a writing utensil - a pink marker, how peculiar - and then for a surface to write on.

Nothing. Nothing at all, not even a grocery list or receipt left carelessly lying around. The Lithuanian groaned softly and dropped his head against the table. Who would've thought that too much cleaning would be a bad thing?

Jarred free from its moorings, the drawer he'd forgotten about on the side of the table slid open, and that prompted the recollection of the time South Korea had randomly decided to visit and show them origami, because "Origami originated in me, da-ze~!" He remembered thinking privately, Doesn't origami come from Japan? But he'd thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.

And he'd put the inelegant results in the drawer, which he'd then proceeded to forget around.

His heart beating faster, he pulled it fully open and took out one of the malformed paper cranes. At this point, it looked more like a squashed dragonfly than a bird, but that didn't matter. Frantic fingers scrabbled with the creases, and in no time there was a crumpled, sloppy piece of paper to write on. He scrawled a quick message on it (I am going to get them back - Lithuania) and set it on the table. Down the hall, he could hear Ukraine moving about, and he didn't want to get caught, or to have her foil his great escape before it even began.

However, there was only one way in and out of the room, and that was the door her footsteps were padding towards. The room was sparsely decorated, only the table and a chest of drawers and a chair or two, and he couldn't hide in that...

Lithuania eyed the large picture window that he'd been able to view the alien message through. He tugged the latch, but it was rusted shut. I don't want to do this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

He picked up one of the chairs. It was a pretty creation, all wood carving and silver lining, and he hoped it wouldn't break as he swung it at the window.

It made a horrific sound, a screech and a clank and cracks spidered across the window but it didn't break, and Ukraine's footsteps increased in speed. "Lithuania? Is that you?"

He swung again. The cracks grew.

Footsteps, in the hallway right there outside the door, and not enough time to swing the chair again-!

He closed his eyes, resigning himself to defeat. There was the sound of the door creaking open, Ukraine's hesitant voice calling his name -

Then he realized the sound wasn't as close as it might have been, and he opened his eyes once more, hardly daring to believe that she'd opened the wrong door, the one across the hall. Wasting no time at all, he swung the chair a third and final time, knowing that if the window didn't break this time, he'd be caught, he'd have to go back and face everyone, and that gave him the strength to shatter it.

There was the jangling, clattering screech of glass raining to the ground. Each individual shard glimmered and seemed to hang there in the light for a moment, tiny prisms refracting and twisting. Third time's the charm, he thought wildly, and vaulted out the window as Ukraine realized her mistake and turned to the other door, bursting into the room moments after he left it.

"The window!" she cried out, and ran to it. Why had he broken a window? If he wanted to leave this house, there are a great many other exits he could've used aside from a window. Worrying about his mental state, the nation poked her head out the window, searching for him.

Lithuania was safely ensconced in a convenient shrubbery, but despite that, he held his breath in case the rustle of air moving through his lungs would give him away.

He heard her call out one last time before slowly withdrawing her head, where - he hoped - she'd find the note. He felt another stab of guilt, but dismissed it.

Because I have work to do.