Chapter Six

The room swayed in and out of focus. America was on his knees, hands placed on the ground to keep him balanced, but they were shaking. Just like the rest of him. Without opening his eyes, he realized it wasn't him who was shaking, but he was being shaken by someone. He began to heave, needing to be sick, but nothing came up. As it continued, the person shaking him stopped and shouted. It was Francis. And then he was screaming.

"Ne le laissez pas vous le donner!" America's head swayed when he heard him speak. He didn't know what he was saying. "Restez à l'écart de la médecine orange, l'Amérique!"

Francis faded away. America stopped heaving and took a deep breath. His head began to clear. Slowly, America stood up, and when he stood, he felt wind gently tousle his hair. His glasses were cracked, and the image before him was kaleidoscoped into nonsense. Grimacing, he took them off and tossed it over the building ledge. He could see better without them, anyway.

With strangely perfect vision, he gazed at the scene before him. Fire licked up the sides of buildings, civilians ran frantically. They could not hide. A flash of steel caught America's eyes, and he looked to the left. Kiku had drawn his katana, and he side swiped a civilian off his feet. As the small man fell, Kiku's grin widened and became even wider when he watched the blood pour from his victim. America smiled, too, oddly proud of Kiku and his recent murder.

A large hand clasped America's shoulder, but he did not flinch. It was his benefactor. The person who gave him this power. The wind changed direction, and an off-white cloth tickled America's face as he and his benefactor smiled down at chaos...

America jolted upright. His blanket slid off him halfway when he reached his hand up to rub his head. He pulled his hand away and looked at it. A few strands of hair were caught between his fingers, and he frowned at the sight.

Bits of his dream began to slither into his consciousness. He remembered Francis screaming something at him in his frog language. Then he recalled the fire and the flash of steel. And lastly, there was that soft off-white cloth that brushed his skin... America shivered. It was just a bad dream, he thought. I get those when I sleep somewhere unfamiliar. When did I go to sleep, anyway?

Stretching out his arms out, he yawned until his jaw popped. America scratched his chin and made a note of how scruffy his chin felt. He'd have to shave later. He flipped around and placed his feet on the floor, and he felt a strange burning sensation on his upper lip. Touching it gently, he felt that part of the skin there felt raised and was sore. Curious to know what it is, he began to look for a mirror.

After searching every drawer in his nightstand and every crevice of the room, he sighed in defeat. He was surprised that Canada hadn't provided him with a mirror, considering how vain he was. He glanced over in the direction of the TV and noticed the stack of video games beside the Playstation. Maybe he could use those as a mirror.

He made his way to the the system and picked up the Call of Duty game from the top. America pulled open the case and popped the game out. He held the reflective side up to his face to where he could see his lips and his eyes widened. Two letters stretched across his upper lip in raised cursive: "A.K." Arthur Kirkland. How did he do that? America thought. He kissed me, but... Seriously, fuck the what?

He tossed the game on the floor after returning it to his case, too infuriated to put it in the proper place. "Blaise!" called America. "Blaise, where are you? You need to see this. I'm gonna kill that limey bastard!"

America heard a muffled yawn sound from underneath his pillow, and eventually Blaise pulled himself out from under it. He walked to the corner of the bed and plopped down, rubbing his dove eyes. "Man, I was sleeping great." He dropped his wing and glared at America. "This better be good."

"Well, fly your lazy bird ass over here and take a look for yourself!" America yelled, pointing at his afflicted lip.

Blaise sighed and rolled his eyes, but he was in the air a moment later. He flew in front of America and looked where he was pointing. "Dude, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! It was Iggy who kissed me!"

"Alfred," Blaise started. "That usually doesn't happen when you're kissed by someone."

"I know!" He threw his arms in the air. "He did something to make this happen! And when I find out what it was, I'm gunna-"

"Oh, good! You're awake!"

America flipped to face the door, which was wide open. Mattie stood in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him and a kindred smile was plastered on his face. "Uh. H-how long were you-?"

"Alfred, you've got to come with me. I have to give you your nightly injections, and then it's dinner time." His eyes beamed. "And you'll get to meet the other residencies!"

When America didn't move, Canada went to him and gently grabbed him by his wrist. "Come on, now. Don't be afraid. I've given you an injection befo-" He paused and stared at America's face. "What's that?"

America touched his lip with a finger. "I don't know, Ma-" America stopped. Britain had said not to call him by his name. He tried again. "I don't know. I woke up and it was there."

Canada merely nodded, but America could see fire blistering behind his eyes. "I see..." The fire was gone. "I'll see what I can do about that burn. Come on!" He pulled America to the door, and then they were walking down the corridor of rooms. "The sooner we fix you up, the sooner you get to eat!" As if hearing those words, America's stomach grumbled, and he placed his free, bandaged hand on it. Canada laughed. "I'll have Mildred cook up some hamburgers for you," winked the doctor.

Canada had his back toward America as he filled a metal syringe. He couldn't see the vial that held the liquid, and when Canada turned around, he couldn't see it then, either. It was in a metal syringe, after all.

"Hey, why is that in a metal syringe?" America questioned. He was a bit wary of the fact that he wouldn't let him see the medicine.

Canada casually shot a bit of liquid from the syringe and flicked the needle. "This medicine counteracts with glass and plastic syringes. It's just a precaution."

"Oh." America felt nervous. He didn't sound like he was lying, but with the scare that Arthur had given him earlier, he didn't feel like he could trust his words.

Canada tied an elastic band around America's bicep and tapped a vein at the bend of his elbow. Then the needle went in. America gasped when a burning sensation flowed through his arm as Canada pressed down the plunger. When the needle slid out, America clasped his hand over where it had been and stared at Canada with wide eyes.

"Oh, gosh!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I forgot that to warn you that it burned on the way in..." He shook his head. "I'm really sorry. But it ebbs away the longer you take it. I promise." He smiled and placed a bandage with colorful dinosaurs on it over the small puncture wound. It hadn't even been bleeding. America didn't smile back. He was now officially suspicious of Canada.

His stomach growled again. "Oh! Right. Yes. Dinner time!" Canada proclaimed. America jumped off the examining table and sauntered through the door behind Canada. A single thought crossed his mind: I've got to get out of here.

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Yo-seph, broseph!

A couple of things that are absolutely kicktits:

Nutella

Nicotine by Panic! At The Disco

and Twilight Sparkle the Alicorn princess.

That is all.

Oh yes, and please send feedback! PM or review. Pick your poison~ ;)