Author's note:

Hey guys! Sorry I didn't say anything the first three chapters. Anyhow, like the descriptions says, this is a bunch of different stories I have written for the North American brothers. I like to keep each story as realistic and close to current world events as I can, so each story is essentially dated with casual references. All have happened in the past year or so, so no having to do major research.

I have a good amount of stories right now, but my ideas come at random, and recently I have been struggling to write more. So, one of my goals is to write for you guys, not for my own amusement. If there is something you want me to cover, or a story you think I'd be good at writing, throw it at me. I'd be more than happy to take up the challenge.

Anyhow, I will be updating every few days, although I won't be updating the stories in order. Also, if a story is offending, or I portrayed it wrong, please tell me so I can fix it. Thanks, and enjoy!

"Sir….hear me?"

"...get him...warm…."

I feel so warm, Canada's jumbled, sluggish thoughts began to connect as he struggled to open his eyes.

"I think he's trying to wake up," a distant voice called. Canada worked to move his hands, his fingers, his toes, anything. He couldn't feel his body.

Maybe I'm dead, Canada thought idly as he let unconsciousness consume him once more.

"Al…" Canada mumbled, trying to understand what was going on around him. His thoughts came slowly, and his body was mostly numb, with a slow, throbbing pain radiating from his head. He let himself think for a few minutes, trying to recall what was going on. His thoughts all mixed together as he heard something that seemed off in the distance draw near to him.

"Sir, are you awake?" A voice above him asked, and Canada wanted to open his eyes, move, move his fingers, nod his head, anything that gave an answer.

"Alfred…" Canada managed to finally say, knowing that this name was important, but forgetting why.

"Alfred?" The voice asked, and another voice, even farther away, answered.

"His brother. We got the call in from an american official saying these two would be out here. So far, though, there's only one."

"No signs of him anywhere?"

"No. But, considering how much time has passed, I'm not sure he'll be alive anymore. Not in this cold."

Of course! His brother! Canada wanted to yell, to tell them that Alfred was fine, just to find him, but his numb lips would not move anymore and his sluggish mind begged for more sleep. Canada forced himself to stay awake for a few minutes longer, only listening to a low rumbling and the two voices, until everything became silent again.

"...have Matthew Williams. Vitals low, but working. Alfred Jones found half a kilometer from the house. No vital signs, beginning warming process."

Canada worked to open his eyes, needing to know where he was and who was speaking.

"...are you…" Matthew tried, his mind still sluggish and his words slurred together.

"Sir, try to stay awake. We need to warm you."

"Who are you?" Matthew tried again, finally able to form a full sentence. His head began a slow, painful rhythm as his thoughts began to catch up.

"My name is Daniel. I'm treating you for hypothermia and frostbite."

"Where's... Alfred?"

"Your brother is safe. You need to worry about yourself right now. Try to stay awake." Upon hearing about his brother, his lethargic thoughts finally caught up and his eyes shot open. Canada began to struggle to sit up, but was unable to move any part of his body.

Where am I Where's Alfred It's so cold I want to sleep I need to find Alfred.

"Matthew," a strong hand pushed gently on Matthew's shoulder until the Canadian finally stopped trying to move. "You need to not move, Matthew. You had no vital signs for over an hour and your body is in shock. You need to relax."

"I-I'm fine," Canada said, trying to regain his composure. "I want to see my brother." Canada finally focused his thoughts and looked at the young man next to him. He did not answer for a minute, and Canada began to think that he did not hear him, until Daniel gave Canada back his attention and sighed.

"Not yet," he said, then stood up and walked out of Canada's sight.

No, I need to see Alfred, Canada thought, his mind speeding up until he finally thought to look at his surroundings. He heard a gentle fire somewhere off to his right and the man, Daniel, and a woman speaking somewhere to his left. He tried moving his head, and succeeded in moving it towards where the two voices were. Not far from him was what seemed like a large blanket wrapped around something. Canada thought for a second and finally came to the logical conclusion.

"Al," Canada whispered, then struggled once again to sit up. After a moment he found that he could not move his arms or legs, and he looked down to see himself wrapped snug in a blanket, similar to his brother. He felt no warmth from the blanket. He worked to wriggle his fingers, but found them immovable, just as much as the rest of his body.

"Is he alive?" Canada asked, still struggling to move anything at all, and stopped when Daniel came back over, a stern frown across his face and his eyes filled with something Canada recognized all too well.

"You just came back from the dead. You need to worry about yourself. We'll take care of your brother," Daniel answered, rather harshly, and Matthew finally noticed just how tired the poor man looked.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine, really. Just, tell me if he's alive and I'll be still," Canada insisted, trying to find out anything that could put his mind to rest.

"He's," Daniel looked over at the mass of blankets to Canada's side a few feet away, and shook his head, "He's not showing any signs of life at the moment. I'm surprised he's not frozen solid. The frostbite did some pretty terrible damage, if he ever recovers. Same with you," Daniel turned back to Canada, who had become silent and stared up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over as the facts were dropped on him, one by one, like bricks.

"Matthew, your frostbite is extensive. I thought you were dead when I found you, too. I can only thank the heavens you were alive. I've seen too much else tonight to keep my hope going for much longer. As soon as the ambulance is able to make it out here, we're shipping you to the nearest hospital."

"And Alfred?" Matthew urged, hoping that he would simply nod, but the silence stretched out for a while before Daniel answered.

"We'll have to wait and see." Daniel stood up and walked out of Canada's sight, leaving him to his thoughts until he did not feel the need to stay conscious any longer and fell into a deep slumber.

"Papa…." Matthew yawned, starting to pull his hand out to cover his mouth, but could not escape the warm embrace. Matthew pulled harder, trying to free himself, and opened his eyes, trying to gain his senses. Canada gave one last pull, using whatever strength he had, and finally lifted his arms free of whatever prison they were held in. He sat up, far too quickly, and watched black dots dance in his vision, until, slowly, they dispersed. Matthew looked down at his free appendages and grimaced, a stray thought passing of them looking like a mummy. He noticed something coming out of his right arm and followed the clear tube, trying to figure out what it was. After he focused on the tube, he could almost feel whatever was being put into him. It felt… warm. And it was making him drowsy, keeping his thoughts at the turtle pace they had finally settled on. He followed the tube up and saw it attached to a clear bag, and finally came to the conclusion that he was in a hospital. Or a clinic. Canada glanced around at the other objects in the room, and found the room to be almost haphazardly put together. Next to his makeshift bed, he found the one thing he did not expect to want to see immediately. His brother lay, covered in blankets and bandages, a clear tube coming out of his arm as well. Matthew grimaced at the sight of him, whatever parts that were visible outside of the blanket, which included only the arm with the IV and his head, were wrapped loosely in gauze. Canada reached over to touch his brother, as if to make sure he was real, but pulled back at the last second, afraid that if he touched him, he would shatter like glass.

"Al?" Matthew whispered, his voice rough and his lips seemingly frozen solid, almost unable to form proper words.

"He's out cold," Matthew flinched at the voice coming from behind him, and his heart fluttered when he realized who it was.

"Arthur, I thought you were going back to England?" Matthew slowly turned his gaze away from his brother and made eye contact with England, who had found Matthew's words as an invitation to sit on his makeshift bed with him. England's eyes dropped down to Alfred, and his usual frown graced his features.

"No," England finally answered after a minute of silence, and he pushed a hand through his messy hair, "I stopped at my embassy for a few days, finishing some official work while I was here. My scheduled flight was cancelled due to a snowstorm back home, but I thank the heavens for it or else I would not have been able to help you two nitwits. What were you thinking, going out in a storm like that?" England's tone went from tired to sharp and scowling and Matthew stared at the blanket covering him instead of meeting England's eyes again.

"You know, you were in real danger out there. Alfred died out there, but thank goodness he's a country, or else I would be short a boy," Arthur's voice hitched at the end in a way Matthew did not recognize at first, until he looked up and saw the tears forming in his former caretaker's eyes. Guilt plagued the Canadian as he cast his eyes back down to stare at his makeshift bed.

"I'm sorry," Matthew started, but was not given the chance to continue as Arthur cut in.

"Whatever for? However this happened, I am sure it was your bloody brother's idea." England tried covering up the wavering in his voice with his usual harsh tone, but he still had to wipe at his eyes before he gained control over his emotions once more.

"I should have been watching him better. I know better than anyone what hypothermia can do, and I left him alone. I didn't think it was that bad," Canada closed his eyes, not willing to meet England's, not knowing what they would tell him. "I keep forgetting that Alfred and I are very different. I forgot what happens when it snows in his southern states versus my provinces and I wasn't paying enough attention to the news. Maybe if I had been a better brother he would-"

"Easy, Matthew," England suddenly cut in, his arms moving to support Canada's back and chest, steadying him. Matthew opened his eyes and realized how worked up he had been, his breathing coming in short huffs and his cheeks feeling ablaze. "Just breathe. There we are." Matthew followed Arthur's lead and tried to match his slower pace, drawing in much needed oxygen, holding it, then letting it go to let in more. After a few minutes, with Canada's breathing now under control, England gently pushed against Matthew's chest and supported his back, laying the younger nation down.

"I think you still need much rest. I want to hear everything, but after you are feeling better, yeah?" Arthur tucked in the blanket loosely, making sure to keep the IV free, and mussed with Matthew's hair, donning a tired smile on his face. Matthew's eyes drooped, against his will, and he finally realized how exhausted he felt. After a minute of trying to fight off unconsciousness, it finally consumed him, and his body relaxed.

England sighed after his son's breathing evened out and ran a hand through his hair, then down his face.

"These two are going to be the death of me," he sighed and stood up to see if he could find the doctor.

"...-54 fahrenheit? I didn't think it was that bad. No wonder it hurts so much," Matthew faded into the conversation that was taking place next to him, and he lay still, not wanting to interrupt what the two voices were discussing.

"Matthew's capitals were some of the coldest. Your news is calling it 'record-breaking'."

"And Mattie has to deal with this almost every year. Crazy." Alfred, Matthew had finally awoken enough to recognize each voice, yawned, then hissed, the sound followed by sheets being moved.

"Bloody hell, Alfred, careful! We don't need you pulling out your IV on top of the frostbite and hypothermia," England scolded, and Canada was suddenly reminded of the predicament the two brothers had been in. A rush of relief and excitement ran through his body, and he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the sun that was shining brightly through a nearby window. Canada lifted his arm to cover his eyes from the oppressing sun, and was greeted a moment later by England.

"Good to finally see you awake, Matthew," Arthur said, helping Matthew sit up after Canada's eyes finally adjusted to the sunlight.

"Alfred, you're awake," Matthew said lamely, his head now emitting a dull ache, and his senses not truly catching up to him.

"I am, and so are you. Great observation skills, there, Matt," Alfred teased, then yawned again. "So, what brings you back to the world of the conscious?"

"You, actually," Matthew grinned, "How are you feeling?"

"Like that time Captain America was found in the ice after his crash during World War II and was thawed. I'm still working on the thawed part, though," America lifted his hand and showed his brother the bound limb, trying to wriggle his fingers, but to no avail. He sighed and set it back on the bed.

"I got to see them change the bandages once. Looked kinda like I dipped them in lava, all black and blue. The doctors said my hands are goners, but they don't know who I am," Alfred smiled proudly, and Canada, now fully focused on his brother, and could see a tinge of purple on the tip of his brother's nose and cheeks. Matthew winced, knowing his brother would be in a world of pain if not for the drugs that were running in his system. "My feet, too. They said I wouldn't be able to walk again. I'll give it a week."

"You better not just 'give it a week'. You two are staying in bed and everyone is going to heal the right way. None of this 'hero' business you always go on about," England cut in, tired of America's careless attitude toward the whole situation.

"But-" Alfred started, but was interrupted by Canada's low, patient sigh.

"Al, he's right, you know. I'm sure you already know that you froze to death out there. I think giving into a few weeks of rest would be good for us all," Matthew looked up at England, who nodded in approval, then sat down on Canada's bed, a huff of air escaping.

"At least do it for your brother," England said after a moment of silence. "He might've withstood the conditions much better than you, but he's still in bad condition." Matthew frowned and rubbed at his cheek with the heel of his hand, which were bound in bandages, similar to Alfred. Canada thought for a moment and realized that his entire condition was probably similar to his brother's, although his feet did not seem to be as bad, from was he had gathered during his times of consciousness so far. He would have to wait and see when they took off the bandages again, whether or not his resistance to winter was truly more formidable.

"Fine. Whatever. But, I better get some ice-cream from this,"Alfred pouted, started the movements to cross his arms, but hesitated and let his arms drop loosely to his sides, fully aware of how useless they were at the moment.

"Ice-cream, after this ordeal? I was supremely hoping that we could stray far from the cold for a while, especially considering that half of your country went under a state of emergency because of it," England stated, exasperated by his son's insistence of doing what others would deem illogical.

"Actually, ice-cream does sound good," Canada smiled, the thought of a giant scoop of maple walnut ice-cream making his mouth water. England sighed and covered his face with his hands.

"What will I do with you two?" He asked rhetorically. Alfred let out a loud yawn, and moved to stretch his arms, but was stopped by a hand that had seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"You should be careful not to move the IV," the person behind Alfred warned.

"Ah, Dr. Wilson, come to check up on the boys?" England stood up and greeted the doctor formally.

"I have, and it's good to see them both awake and thriving. Also, there are two men outside waiting for you, Mr. Kirkland," the doctor began flipping through his clipboard as Arthur gave his thanks and walked out of the door to meet the two who were waiting for him.

"Now, who wants to go first?" The doctor glanced up and switched his eyes between the two boys, waiting for a response.

"I volunteer Mattie. I've done this consciously already. It's his turn," Alfred pointed at his brother, a devious smile on his face, and Matthew stuck out his tongue, then nodded at the doctor.

"I'll be the brave one and go first, then. My cowardly brother is afraid of everything," Matthew teased, and heard Alfred harumph as the doctor made his way over, gathering a few supplies from a nearby cupboard first.

"It won't hurt," the doctor reassured, "But, there is a lot of damage, and it may be hard to look at." Dr. Wilson then set down the supplies on a table next to Canada's bed and began to unwrap Matthew's arms. Canada breathed slowly, calmly, bracing himself for what he would see underneath the bandages. He knew it was not going to be good, because he could not feel his fingers, and a light throb seemed to come from his hands, now that he focused on them.

"I already told your brother, and I will tell you, this is not as bad as it looks, but there is not much more we can do for your hands. Only time and healing can tell us whether or not we will have to do surgery," the doctor finished unwrapping Matthew's hand and walked over to a disposal to throw away the old gauze. This gave Matthew a few seconds to take in the damage. He sighed, half in relief, half in acceptance, that it was not as bad as he had thought. His fingers were swollen and purple, the ends turning into an almost black, and Matthew winced, knowing that if he were a human, those appendages would be gone.

"We are giving you medication through the IV at the moment to keep the pain at bay. You have second and third degree frostbite. Your hands will be unusable for some time. Your toes have a bit of frostbite, too, but not on such a high degree. Just be careful when walking, and keep them warm. Your nose, ears, and cheeks have a bit of frostbite as well, much like your brother's, and will take a good while to heal." The doctor spoke while he was checking each area, addressing it as he looked it over and applying medication where needed. Canada was just grateful that he did not have any blisters. Those were a pain to take care of, and he was too tired to deal with it.

"Now," the doctor moved onto rewrapping his hands, satisfied with everything, "Mr. Kirkland has agreed to take care of you two for the time it will take to heal. It is not necessary to stay hospitalized, as long as you take good care of yourself. I trust you to listen to him when necessary," Canada nodded, "I've already instructed him on caring for you two." The doctor then finished wrapping the silent Canadian's hands and gave him one last appraising look, before turning to Alfred, who had his eyes trained on his brother the whole time he was being treated.

"That goes double for you, Mr. Jones," the doctor warned, and Matthew snickered, knowing full well that Alfred probably already gave a good fight when he was told that England would be caring for them. He imagined his brother whining like a small child, crossing his arms and pouting, his bottom lip sticking out in such a childish manner, it looked almost pathetic coming from a man his age. No doubt he also received one of Arthur's famous 'talks', being chewed and spit out to the point of looking like ground beef.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Alfred mumbled as the doctor checked on his IV and readjusted it, making Alfred wince and close his eyes.

"If you would stop moving around so much, this would not be an issue," the doctor muttered, obviously having already dealt with Alfred enough to know that reasoning and needles do not mix well with him.

"Well, why do I have to have this, anyway?" Alfred whined, trying for a counter attack.

"Because if you did not have this, Mr. Jones, then you would be dehydrated and in great, unnecessary pain." The doctor finished with the needle, then moved to unwrapping his patient's arms. Matthew watched with peaked interest, not knowing the full extent to which his brother was affected, and was both interested and ashamed. He wanted to know how his brother could handle the cold, and he needed to see the damage so he could rightly scold himself and sit in self-hate for not reaching him sooner. He knew the latter was wrong to do, but he also knew it had to be done so he could live with seeing his brother in the state he was in. It was his own fault that his brother was like this in the first place. At least, that's what Matthew truly believed, and it would take time and patience for him to see it any other way.

The doctor finished unwrapping his brothers arms and moved on to his feet, and Matthew inhaled as he took a good look at his brother. His hands were blackened and swollen, much like Matthew's, but the reach of frostbite had cut much deeper into Alfred, leaving his hands completely useless and immovable. His feet, once in view, were no better, and Canada felt guilt well up inside of his chest, threatening to spill over. He sucked in a deep breath, and steeled himself for any more damage that might have been done. The doctor did not disappoint. After finishing with unwrapping Alfred's feet, and looking them over, mentally noting the damage and progress that may have taken place, he moved onto removing Alfred's blanket and reveal his abdomen wrapped loosely in gauze, faint bruise-like splotches seeping out from under the bandages. Canada vaguely remembered reading the news about where the cold had caused the most damage in his brother's country. His southern states were not prepared for any type of snowfall, let alone the chilling temperatures they had to go through.

"Any better, doc?" Alfred asked, nonchalant attitude seeping through, trying to lessen the seriousness of the whole ordeal.

"Not good, but better," the doctor admitted, brushing his fingers over the exposed flesh on his brother's chest and stomach, and letting out a confused huff. "Just baffling," He muttered, then backed away, grabbing the nearby gauze and began to rewrap the abused skin. As this was being done, Arthur decided then to walk through the door.

"I hope you'll be ready to leave soon. That was our escort. We'll be heading back to one of Matthew's main households, outside of Toronto," England said, walking over to sit next to Canada and watch the doctor make fine work of wrapping Alfred.

"I will retrieve the release forms as soon as-" The doctor began, but was waved off by England.

"No need. Everything is already taken care of," England answered, then continued when he saw the doctor's prominent frown and overall look of disapproval. "But I greatly thank you for your help. I can take the boys from here, though. I am their legal guardian, and I know what's best," England looked between Canada and America, and smiled when America gazed at his father figure, not liking being under the command of someone else, and rebellion sparking dangerously in Alfred's eyes. "And I have everything I need to know right here," England then picked up a notebook from a table sitting next to Canada's bed. The doctor nodded, then finished taping Alfred's new wrappings into place.

"Let me gather the supplies you'll need, then."

"I can walk just fine, you know," Alfred pouted, crossing his arms and wincing as he aggravated the hole where his IV had previously been. England sighed, having heard this multiple times before, and knowing this will not be the end of it.

"Do you want another show of what happened back in the room?" England snapped, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Alfred had tried, and failed, to stand on his own, in the few minutes between England departing with the doctor to retrieve the wheelchairs. Alfred had not only fallen, but had ripped out his IV, but, thankfully it had come out cleanly, leaving only minor bruising. How was he going to deal with these two? Canada, England noticed, had remained deceptively silent, not saying a word as he was ushered into a wheelchair and pushed out of the hospital. England watched him as they reached the car, and the boys were helped into it, Alfred trying to push off attempts at helping, but Canada staying quiet, staring straight forward, not even letting his movements give away what he was thinking. England pondered what could be going through his son's head, but was pulled from his thoughts when his agents turned to him and said the car was ready, and they would meet him at the planned destination. England nodded at the two, giving him his thanks, and was secretly relieved to be rid of them for a while, their presence obstructing his time alone with the boys. His government found them necessary in 'today's time and age', but England just found them rather aggravating. Thankfully he was only given them when traveling abroad. And even then, it was only when there was turmoil within the country he was in. Apparently the recent weather had called for them.

England climbed into the driver's side of the vehicle and was welcomed by a wave of warmth, staving off the frigid cold of the outside. He went into drive, remembering the laws of the road for the country he was in, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"So, Iggy," America started, interrupted by a yawn and England mumbling at Alfred's nickname, "are you really taking care of us? I mean, that sounds kinda… I don't know, lame. Don't you have country stuff you have to do?"

"Yes, as a matter-of-fact. But," England looked into his rearview mirror, and caught Alfred's gaze, "I like you two and would hate to find your dumb arses wandering around in the frigid cold again. Mind telling me what happened, while we're on the subject?" England changed his tones quickly, from accusatory to scolding. Alfred did not answer, more for the fact that he did not want to out of rebellion, and less for the fact that his memory of the whole ordeal was sketchy at best. England switched his stern gaze to Canada, whose silence was both unnerving and frustrating for England. Matthew, however, did not take his eyes off of the passing landscape outside, staying as silent as ever.

"Matthew," England tried, his tone dropping to more concern. When Canada did not answer, he tried again, a little louder, "Matthew." This finally drew Canada's attention from the passing trees long enough for him to meet Arthur's eyes in the rearview mirror. England turned his attention back to the road, and patiently repeated himself.

"Matthew, what happened? I have had to piece together the story from the medics and your half-delusional brother." Alfred sighed, not remembering much from before he arrived at the hospital and, although acting annoyed, was interested himself. Canada moved his eyes to look back out the window.

"It was my fault. I left Alfred alone when I knew he should never have been." And it was the self-deprecating tone that made England change his whole demeanor to try to save his son from his own thoughts.

"Now, lad, you and I both know this is not your blame," England started, but was cut off by Canada giving a loud sigh and closing his eyes.

"I'm tired," Matthew answered rather harshly, and leaned his head against the window, showing he wanted the discussion to end. England let it drop, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air, and focused on driving, hoping time would help Canada return to calm. It must be the effects of hypothermia, England thought, his mind wandering as the roads began to meld together. After another twenty minutes of driving, England spoke up again.

"Is it warm enough for you two?" Arthur asked, but was greeted with silence. Curiosity caused him to turn around and found the two brothers fast asleep, one laying on top of the other, Canada still leaning against the window, his arm wrapped protectively around his brother, who had fallen into a deep slumber on his brother's lap. England turned back to the road, a smile in his eyes and fell into the content silence of the car, not daring to wake them. He did, however, pull out his phone, on impulse, and took a photo of the two boys, wanting to remember this moment of peace while it lasted, trying not to remember why they were there in the first place. Some things about those two never change, England thought as he stored the phone and settled into the long drive still ahead of him.