There's a commotion somewhere in the main room, and Peter knows what that means. They've found another country. His heart twists, and he resists the urge to jump to his feet and run over, barging through the door to see who it is, if it's - if it's someone heknows.

The countries that are found, the ones still lost even after almost 200 years, they're the ones who aredifferent.The ones who are still really sick, or can't quite manage to stay present, drifting off into dreamworlds in their minds like Lithuania, or lashing out wildly like everyone is an enemy, or something else wrong.

Peter isn't sure if seeing them still alive makes it better or not. He still wakes up with nightmares frequently, but he's one of the lucky ones. He's got someone by his side. His brothers, the ones he never knew before the world ended, always sleep together with him, usually Jet, or occasionally Alfred, but if neither of them are available, Mathew or James will stay with him instead. It feels wierd to think of himself as lucky, after everything he's been through, everything he's lost. He'll never see his first family, his Mama and Papa, his Uncles and cousin, again. But at least Peter found himself a new family, and there's always someone there to comfort him when he wakes up.

Most of the others aren't so lucky.

He scuffs his feet against the floor, trying to listen through the hub-bub of voices, trying to figure out who they found, and what kind of broken they were. Peter tries to push down the hope, somewhere deep inside, that somehow, impossibly, his family has come back to him. He knows that hoping hurts more than resignation, but he can't help himself anyways. Every time, Peter hopes. And every time he's wrong, and his heart breaks all over again.

A familiar accent, and it takes him a moment to place it. Not his Mama or Papa. Not his family, but someone he knows. Peter digs his memory for the accent, edging closer to the door - surely it can't hurt if he just takes a peek, right? But before he even gets close, he hears a shout - "Wait!"- and Lithuania dashes past, his face more alive than Peter's seen it since the world ended. Moments later Russia appears, not running, but speedwalking, his eyes alight with hope.

He hears the voice again inside, almost covered with the sobs of Lithuania and Russia scolding, almost joyfully, and Peter places the accent. Estonia.

Not his family. A friend of his Mama's, but not the person he wants to see so badly. Peter backs away from the door, trying to regulate the crushed feeling in his chest.It's okay,he tries to tell himself,I knew it wouldn't be them.It never is. Maybe later, he'll go speak to Estonia, share Stories of his Mama and ask if he's heard anything about the Nordics, but right now Peter hurts too much to try. His heart shouldn't hurt this bad, he shouldn't be heartbroken every time. He still is. He can't have his heart crushed again, not so soon.

He's taking deep breaths to try and regulate his breathing when he hears someone call his name.

"Peter!" It's Alfred, with Mathew in toe right behind, arguing with his brother.

"Let me handle it!" Mathew hisses, trying to pull Alfred back, and reluctantly, Alfred gives, nearly quivering from the effort it takes to restrain himself. Satisfied, but seeming a bit suspicious that Alfred might burst out any second, Mathew hurriedly closes the gap between him and Peter, eyes wide and unsuccessfully trying to make himself look calm. Mathew bends a bit to look Peter in the eye, grabbing his hands.

"Peter, there's something I need to tell you, but I need you to stay calm and listen first, okay?"

If Peter didn't already know who they'd found, his heart would have lept for joy. Instead, Peter stares at his feet.

"It's Estonia, I know."

Mathew's grip on his hands just tightens.

"Just listen. You know how the sickness can make people wierd, sometimes?"

Peter knows. He flicks his eyes to Mathew's.

"Like Lithuania? Or... Like China?"

China is one of the ones who got Paranoia with his PTSD. Mathew looks stressed.

"No, like... Seychelles."

"Oh."

Seychelles is another of Peter's friends, one of the few countries who treated him like an equal, and not just a kid playing pretend. But when they found her, several years before Peter, Seychelles was the one like a child. She still thinks she is one. And she's still Peter's friend. Even so, Peter's heart sinks. He knows why Mathew is telling him this.

"Estonia-"

Alfred makes a noise and Mathew hurries to talk over his brother.

"No not him. Peter... We found.. he brought... When he came, he wasn't alone-"

Alfred can't contain himself anymore and bursts out with the news.

"We found Iceland! And Denmark!"

And Peter feels ice on his spine. He turns to Mathew, barely breathing, praying this isn't some sort of sick joke, that ghosts really have come back from the dead. That his heart won't break again. Mathew confirms it, a strange twisted look on his face that had scared Peter when they first met, but he now knows what it means. Sorrow and concern. And suddenly, he's moving, heart pounding so fast he thinks it may stop. He has to see them, he has to confirm it-

Mathew grabs his arm as he moves, jerking him back, and Peter almost lashes out and attacks Mathew on instinct. How could Mathew stop him? Mathew talks quick before the rage overrides Peter's rationality.

"Wait! Peter, Denmark's not the same, just don't-"

And through the ringing in his ears Peter hears the snap of his common sense breaking.

"I don't care! They're my family!"

It doesn't matter. Even if his uncle doesn't recognize him, if he's confined to a wheelchair or completely unrecognizabke, it doesn't matter. Even if it's his cousin, it doesn't matter. Because they're his family. And that's all Peter needs to know.

He bursts into the room.

He barely notices Estonia and his small group, eyes panning right over them and around the room until he spotsthem.For a moment, he doesn't even recognize Iceland, worn, thinner, shaggy hair and lacking his usual Sweater - the one's they liked to tease and say were ugly. Denmark is more recognizable, same dopey face, same spiky hair and familiar posture.

Still alive, the both of them.

A sound that's a gross between a shout and cry rings out, and Peter barely recognizes his own voice, and then he's hugging them both, first his uncle, then his cousin, and he's crying in a way he thought he'd forgotten, years ago, when he was first pulled out of that bunker. He's crying like his heart is breaking, and it feels like it is, which makes no sense because Peter is unbearably happy right now. Someone priés him off them, like they're trying to figure out who he is, and then a gasp, and Iceland's shocked voice.

"Peter?"

And Peter clings to him again, not feeling like an immortal country who has lived hundreds of years, but like he's just another of the little kids who used to be in the bunker, the ones who used to cry for their families. He has so much to say, so much to ask, but all he can do is choke out their names as best as he can through the tears.

"Emil! Uncle Mattias!"

And he's crushed in the tightest hug he's ever gotten, tighter than his Mama's, tighter than Jet or Alfred's, tighter than he knew his cousin could hug.

"Peter!" And tears are hitting his face and rolling down his cheeks, but they're not his. "I thought- I didn't know-"

Emil gives up on what he was trying to say, and says something else entirely.

"I'm so glad to see you again."

Pete thinks it's the best thing he could have ever heard.

Uncle Mattias shuffles to his side, and Emil suddenly releases Peter, which relieves his lungs, but crushes his heart tighter, but Peter doesn't cling. He's remembering now, what Mathew had just told him.

'Like Seychelles'

And even before Emil explains, Peter sees the childish innocence and hope in his Uncle's eyes, and heknows.

"Mattias is... He's still a bit sick, but he's getting better! He's remembering things too, in bits. It's still him, but-"

Emil is babbling, stumbling g over words like he has to explain before Peter freaks out, like he's scared Peter won't accept Denmark when he's like this.

Peter thinks there's nothing in the world that could make him refuse the family he just got back.

"Its okay!" Peter interrupts, and for the first time in a long time, he means it. "I'm just glad I have you guys back."

It's not "good" or "fine" but it's finally "okay". And that's a start. Someone shifts behind him, the familiar sound of familiar people approaching, and Peter thinks that he really is lucky, despite everything. After all, some people here have no one, no friends or family left. And Peter has what's left of two. Peter turns and grabs the hand of his nearest brother, tugging him forward to meet his other family.

"Guys, this is my Uncle Mattias and my Cousin Emil! Uncle Mattias, Emil, these are my brothers on England's side."

Its not perfect ending, not in any way. Emil crushes the hope for his Mama to one day show up too. "Gone," Emil whispers on a choking note. Both his Mama, and his other uncle, Lukas, are gone, forever. His Papa disappeared not long after his Mama passed. Peter tries to feel hopeful when he asks Emil if he thinks Sweden is still out there, missing, but Emil exchanges a sad and meaningful look with Peter's brothers, like they're all part of a secret Peter isn't in on yet, and doesn't answer. Peter doesn't ask again.

It's a long time after that before he sees Emil smile again, and even longer until his Uncle remembers him. Denmark's still not normal, not even close, a child in a man's body, but just the sound of his name is enough for Peter's heart to swell so large it hurts. It's a start.

Denmark still wakes up every night with nightmares (memories) thrashing and flailing, and Iceland won't let Peter sleep with him. Peter's not sure if it's to spare Peter, or to keep him from finding out the dark and terrible things they'd seen in the time they were missing the thing that still haunt their dreams. It hurts, but it's okay.

Because Mathew tucks him in, awkward, like a mother hen, and James and Alfred take turns telling him stories before bed, and usually he has Jet's warm back pressed against his at night, when he's not sleeping over with Molossia. Even on the nights when he's sent to bed early, when his brothers stay up later or are too busy to join him, it's not that bad. He doesn't feel so alone.

And soon, they tell him, the internet will be back up, and Peter can finally, finally, see his brother again. It's not perfect, but it's one hundred times better when he was trapped alone in the dark with the Monsters, waiting for someone who would never come.

As he finally starts to drift off, Peter isn't scared of the dark anymore. After all, There's a light in the hallway as he falls asleep.