Two months.

Two—bloody—months later.

That was how long it'd been before he got an opportunity to confront the North American brothers about the strange behavior. England hadn't been able to shake the feeling of something being wrong. Especially with Canada being ridiculously vague, and America hardly answering his phone. To add insult to injury, the meeting was in France.

"Anglettere~"

"Not one word from you," England interjected. "At least none directed at or concerning me."

"Cassant, mon ami," the Frenchman tutted. "Do you not recall ze little agreement our bosses forced upon us both? To, how do they say it…'play nice'?"

"It'd be much easier to keep my word if you were at the other end of the room." England had no qualms about physically pushing his longtime rival away.

"Hm…" France stopped and studied him for a moment. Then he nodded as though satisfied with a diagnosis. "Something is bothering you."

Arthur idly wondered when he'd become so easy to read that anyone could walk up and tell him what he was feeling.

France's smile was probably supposed to be comforting, but only succeeded in being slightly less lecherous than usual. "Care to confide in Big Brother Fra—?"

Arthur cut him off with a gesture. "The only thing bothering me today is that there is no escaping you while I'm here. You think I don't know who stole my embroidery out of my locked room? In Paris? When you're the only one who could? When you're the only one who would?"

"I Jumped in for a visit, and it is not my fault you were not there to receive me," Francis retorted flippantly. His unrealistically sparkling blue eyes were curious. "…I see there is something else. However I am too busy to play counselor today. So I will be seeing you later."

With his promise (threat) made, France pranced off to go molest someone else. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, and made a mental note to set wards on his hotel room door. And bear traps on his property.

On the bright side, there'd been pixies flying just outside the windows all day. In fact, the Fae had been especially active around him as of late…As usual they offered no reason for it, so England would simply let it be. And if they 'accidentally' broke some of France's windows or stole his hairbrush, then all the better.

At lunch, England escaped the room housing the bulk of western and central Europe for this round of meetings, and spotted Canada ducking out of the loud room that contained most of the North, South, and Central Americas. It sounded like they were still arguing, and most of it was in dialects that England could make neither heads nor tails of.

"How did it go?" England asked out of curiosity.

Matthew groaned. "It was almost a civil discussion about forestry. Then someone brought up something about Spain that must've happened years ago, and everything went to hell."

England imagined what it would be like to live so close to South America, and shuddered. They weren't bad, per se. But so much color and noise and Spanish was bound to get on his nerves eventually. His own neighbors were loud enough. "Hopefully the G8 meeting tomorrow will go smoother."

"God willing," the northern Nation readily agreed. He glanced back towards the room a bit ruefully. "Alfred ditched early for a snack, though."

'Well, there goes waiting by the door.' "Any idea where he is?"

Most people would not have noticed Matthew's slight hesitation. "Why do you ask?"

Arthur gave his former colony a look.

Matthew couldn't hold his gaze for very long. He even had the decency to look slightly abashed. "I know that phone call a few months ago might have been a bit—…"

Oddly rude? Ridiculously vague? Arthur waited.

"I, eh—it's…classified?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, you sound like your brother. But fine, don't tell me. I can ask him myself."

Matthew didn't seem relieved to hear that. "Well, I haven't seen him since he left for lunch. I'd stay for the interrogation, but I've got to present in twenty minutes."

The island Nation watched his former charge's retreating back with interest. That exchange was very…well, to be frank he knew when Matthew was worried about something. The fact that he was too preoccupied to bother hiding his evasiveness meant that it was probably personal…and serious. At least to him.

Interesting.

He ended up spotting America in the small kitchenette, which didn't really surprise him. The boy could polish off an entire buffet and go back for seconds. He entered just in time to witness America dry-swallowing a little blue pill that Arthur didn't recognize.

America coughed in surprise and stared with wide eyes, the incriminating evidence of an empty orange bottle still in his hands.

England politely pretended not to see it. "You didn't come to the London meeting."

"Uuuuuhm…" The container disappeared into America's jacket pocket. "I was busy."

"So busy that your poor brother's been pulled into your nonsense once again. He didn't attend either." Arthur crossed his arms. "I do believe that you owe me an explanation."

America's expression abruptly shut down, his jaw jutting out stubbornly. "I don't owe you jack. You don't need to know every corner of my personal life."

"That's a doomed decision if I've ever heard one." Arthur had expected this. Anything Alfred couldn't play off, America would come out and try to stonewall. "Because I'm going to continue asking. Why have you barely answered your phone? Or email? Do I need to go home and warn my people about some looming economic crisis?"

"You would know if it was."

"Is your government testing on you again? I'll get people involved."

America's hastily raised façade was cracking already. "You can't just—it isn't—"

"And don't give me any rubbish excuses; I know your brother's been running interference for you."

"…badly, apparently."

"And while we're at it," England pressed mercilessly, "what was in that pill?"

Something flickered in Alfred's expression. "Why you always gotta be so damn nosy?" he snapped. His voice had lowered several decibels, and sharpened. So unlike Alfred's usual boisterous tenor.

Arthur knew that voice.

'Promise me that you won't remove your blindfold.'

Britain resisted the urge to lean back. He had not gone this long, and this far, by being stupid. He could deduce most of what Alfred had not wanted him to see that day.

To get out from under that dark glare, he glanced out the window. The pixies that'd been following his movements all day were nowhere in sight. "Alfred," he said carefully, "this hardly warrants a temper tantrum."

"Doesn't it, though?" America flung back at him. But before England could think up a real rejoinder, the younger Nation twitched, and the voice was gone again. "I mean—sorry. For snapping at you. And not being around. I've been busy and just…I'm kinda tired."

Something was very wrong, here. And the conversation was going absolutely nowhere, so England decided to back off for now. "Well, perhaps if you didn't play video games until two o'clock in the morning, you'd find yourself with a better night's rest."

"Yeah, maybe," America laughed. He seemed back to himself, for the moment. "But it beats the hell out of drowning my sorrows. Did you need something else?"

"No, that is all." England ignored his ex-colony's subtle teasing. "I'll probably see you tomorrow, because such is my luck."

"You know you'd be bored without me," America shot back automatically as England made for the exit. From the reflection of a grandiose hall mirror, England could see America turning away, his habitual smile fading into an expression that was hard to place.

The pixies were back in the window, twittering anxiously.

England doubted that this was all just a coincidence.

Thanks for reading; drop a review if you've got the time!

Later dudes. ^J^