Canada visited Norway often. He couldn't say why, exactly; Norway's different personalities (especially Sigmund) frightened him.

Yet, he felt sorry for him.

But his stories (their stories?) were interesting. Especially when Erik and Sigmund got into heated arguments with each other.

Canada hadn't gotten the opportunity to "meet" Lukas yet.

That opportunity came one day when Canada brought food and coffee (that was one thing all of Norway's personalities could agree on: coffee).

Norway sat, as he often did, with his back to the wall. He was still gaunt, his eyes were still sunken, his cheekbones still stuck out too far.

But he only had one shadow, and his eyes were blue. His face bore a somber expression.

"Lukas?" Canada asked cautiously.

Norway nodded. "Canada." He said it hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure if his vocal cords would work.

Canada handed him the coffee cup. Norway took it and sipped. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you."

Canada nodded and sat down. "There's news from Europe, if you want to hear it."

"Yes. Please."

"Denmark's sailing across the Atlantic. We don't know where he's planning to strike yet."

Norway's eyes brightened. "A rescue mission, then?"

Canada shrugged. "We don't know."

"Well, why am I being held? Have I been ransomed, or…"

Canada shook his head. "My brother does not remember that you're here half the time."

"Danmark will be victorious."

"Perhaps."

"How- how does he look? Does he look alright?"

Canada had not missed the slight flush in Norway's cheeks. "I don't know." He paused, considering. "Does he mean something to you?"

Norway's eyes flashed angrily. "That is my affair and none of yours."

Canada shrugged. "I don't know why you hide it. It's not as if it's a big secret."

"There is nothing between us anymore! It was over and done with a long time ago."

"Perhaps. Yet, you ask after him and no one else." Canada was no fool; besides, France had raised him.

"We have a lot of history together; I merely wanted to make sure that he hasn't offed himself yet."

Canada wondered if Norway always made his hands into fists like that when he lied. "Stop lying to me, Lukas. I'm trying to help you."

"I am not lying."

"I'll believe that when pigs fly. Come on, Norway, you know I won't tell anyone else."

"Fine! Fine, I still have…feelings….for Danmark. I know I shouldn't. I know I'll get hurt, but I do. And I think I always will…Are you happy now?"

Well, that just confirmed one of the biggest World Meeting myths ever. When this was all over, Canada would have quite a tidy sum of money to collect.

Norway turned away from Canada. "Leave."

"What?"

"You heard me. Leave, please."

Canada turned and started up the stairs.

A wordless scream caused him to turn back around.

Norway was gripping at his shirt, right over where his heart was. His head was thrown back, screams of agony and anguish ripping from his throat. His entire body was spasming uncontrollably, as if he was having a seizure.

Canada ran over, trying to restrain Norway before he hurt himself.

Long minutes passed. Norway's throat gave out before his seizure ended.

It did finally end.

Canada let go of Norway as the older nation collapsed. Tears streamed down Norway's face.

"What happened?"

Norway could only shake his head and point to his heart.

Blood marked the fabric of his shirt.

Gently, Canada unbuttoned Norway's shirt, exposing a fresh cut that crossed his heart. Examining it closely, Canada could see places where the cut went all the way to the bone.

What happened? Canada thought as he ran to gather supplies. That cut would need stitches, and he didn't think Norway had been capable of inflicting that on himself, accident or not.

He came back as quickly as he could, his arms full of medical supplies. He set them down on a nearby box.

Norway's crying had escalated into full-on sobbing, his shoulders shaking violently.

"Norway, I need to give you a few stitches. That's a nasty cut you've got, and it needs to be closed."

Norway nodded.

Canada lifted the battlefield anesthesia machine. It was very helpful, especially for the purpose it was designed for, as it was very light weight and was composed of only a face mask and a canister that held the vaporized anesthesia.

He started to press the mask against Norway's mouth and nose, but Norway pushed it away.

"No," he said hoarsely. "I want to be awake."

"This is going to hurt."

"Nothing can hurt me now."

With a shrug, Canada set about cleaning and stitching the wound. Norway sat through it, his tears slowing, but he did not even flinch as the needle was pulled through his flesh.

All the while, Canada tried to think about what could have caused this. He knew, but it was somewhere in the back of his mind….He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

As he cut the thread on the last stitch, it came to him. "Merde!"

"What?"

"My brother bombed Oslo today!"

Norway's face drained of color. He turned away from Canada. "My heart knows this."

"I am so, so sorry." Norway looked lost; broken, almost, except that seemed so out of character. "He shouldn't have done that." Gently, he pressed a large bandage over Norway's stitches.

Norway said nothing. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes, and thy dripped down his face. He made no move to wipe them away.

Eventually, Canada packed up and left.

A/N: So, this is the last chapter that I've already written. And I've got writer's block. If you have suggestions for the next few chapters, that would be great. (For the record, I already know how this is going to end. I just need help getting there.)