Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

BulZeal: Piecing Everything Together

"Hey, are you okay?"

Fletcher groaned. Whose voice was it? He was sure that he had never heard that voice before. Why would that person be in his bedroom? And… why was his bed so hard? It felt like… concrete or…

Fletcher's eyes snapped open. A dark-haired man stood over him, and when he saw that he was awake, he sighed and smiled.

"Took you long enough," the man said. "I saw you lying there, and I wondered if you needed some help."

Fletcher looked around him. He wasn't in his bedroom. Actually, he wasn't sure where he was. And the more he tried to think, the more he grew aware of a fog.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"This is an old apartment building," the other man said. "Frankly, I'm surprised to see anyone else here. I mean, this place was condemned about… five years ago? Haven't seen anyone here since, but I like to come by every now and again."

"Why? And… who are you?"

"Oh, right. My name is Dimitri. And I come here to get away from all the noise. You'll understand what that means soon enough. And what's your name?"

Fletcher frowned for a moment. It was the one thing that wasn't shrouded in fog.

"My name is Fletcher," he said.

Dimitri nodded.

"Well, nice to meet you, Fletcher," Dimitri said. "And… Do you know how you got here?" Fletcher shook his head. "Okay… Do you know how you died?"

Fletcher's body turned cold at that question. It was spoken so casually, but…

"I-I'm not dead," he sputtered.

Dimitri's face grew sympathetic.

"I understand that it's hard," he said, "but I'm sorry to say, you're really dead."

Fletcher shook his head. It couldn't be true. There was no way that he could possibly be dead. He placed his hand on his chest, but no heartbeat fluttered under his hand. He checked his throat and wrists. Nothing. He pinched his skin. He couldn't feel it.

Dimitri sat there, watching Fletcher with a sad look on his face. Finally, though, he sighed and took a hold of Fletcher's wrists, before he pulled him up.

"You'll get used to it," Dimitri said. "It takes time, but you'll get used to it."

"H-how can I be dead?" Fletcher stammered. He was sure that he was on the verge of a panic attack, but without a heartbeat and with his breathing not seeming to have any effect, he couldn't be sure. "I-I can't be…"

"It's okay," Dimitri said. "Do you remember anything else?"

Fletcher shook his head. He could remember his name, and he seemed to have some knowledge about how the body was supposed to work, but he couldn't remember anything else.

"Okay, no problem," Dimitri said. "It's not uncommon for people who died to lose their memories. You just need to be exposed to familiar things or people."

"But I can't remember anything!" Fletcher said.

"Well, that's a problem that can be fixed. In the morning, we can look for obituaries in the newspaper. See if there are any Fletchers. We should also try to figure out when and where you died."

It took a moment for Fletcher to understand what exactly Dimitri was saying, and he frowned.

"Wait," he said. "I-I thought I died here. W-why else would I…?"

"It's possible," Dimitri said. "When your soul became disconnected from the body, it might have wandered a bit. Anyway, I hope that's the case, because the alternative isn't comforting."

"What do you mean? What's the alternative?"

"Well, I already told you that this building is abandoned. If you died here, and I'm sure you died pretty recently, then it would imply that… well, let's not think about it. For all I know, you might have died when this place wasn't abandoned, but why you would show up now, of all times, I wouldn't know."

Fletcher frowned.

"You seem to know a lot about all of this," Fletcher said.

"Well, I've been dead for a few years," Dimitri said. "Maybe two decades. I've had enough time to learn how all of this works. And I've met others like us a few times, but that's pretty rare."

Fletcher was silent as he absorbed that bit of detail, before he focused again on what Dimitri had said earlier.

"You said we also need to find out when I died," he said. "What do you…?"

"It sometimes takes a few days before someone appears," Dimitri said. "If we can find an obituary, it will help us determine how long ago you died."

"And… is that important to know?"

"I thought you might want to."

Fletcher nodded. In that case, he did want to know. And he hoped that he and Dimitri would be able to find answers.

"So… what now?" he asked.

"We go outside, of course," Dimitri said. "It's a good idea to move around when you're dead, just so you know. If you stay too long in one place, then you'll be chained to the place and you can probably never leave."

Fletcher grimaced at the thought. That didn't sound appealing at all.

"Okay then," he said. "Lead the way."

…

They had to wait a few hours before morning, and then they needed to find a newspaper. There was a stack of them at a newspaper stand, and Dimitri took one while the cashier was still unpacking them.

"You can't just take a newspaper like that!" Fletcher hissed. "It's stealing."

"Not for us," Dimitri said. "I took an imprint of the newspaper. It's going to fade in a few hours. It's the only way we can really interact with things still in the living world. Have you ever seen a newspaper or a book that seems to be printed extremely faintly?"

Fletcher frowned, because honestly, he didn't know. And the cashier didn't seem to notice the missing newspaper. Dimitri shrugged and grabbed another newspaper, which Fletcher realised was probably from the previous day.

Dimitri scanned the newspapers while Fletcher looked around. He couldn't tell if he had ever been in this neighbourhood, but he felt something familiar. Maybe he had passed through at one point or…

"I found something," Dimitri said, interrupting Fletcher's thoughts. "Okay, so it's not an obituary. It's a missing person alert."

Fletcher moved closer. Tucked in a corner of the page was a photo of a face that felt familiar. He couldn't remember what he looked like, and he'd learned earlier that he didn't have a reflection. But as he looked at the face, he grew more certain that it was, in fact, him. And besides, Dimitri wouldn't have shown him if he didn't look like the person in the photograph. Next to the photo was a name: Fletcher Kirkland.

"Kirkland…" Fletcher whispered.

"I remember that family, back when I was still alive," Dimitri said. "I went to class with one of them."

"Well, can we find any other Kirklands?" Fletcher asked.

"Sure. Oh, and you might want to know that it says here you went missing about a few days ago. And if there's a missing person alert, then that means they don't know you're dead."

Fletcher felt a pang where his heart should have been beating. His family didn't know, and were holding on to the hope that he would be found.

"Do you know where they live?" Fletcher asked.

"No," Dimitri said. "But I know where we can find out."

…

"This is illegal," Fletcher said. "This has to be illegal. There's no way this isn't illegal."

"We're dead," Dimitri reminded him. "The laws of the living literally have no impact on us."

"Then why do I feel as though this is wrong?"

"Because you're still new to all of this."

They were at city hall, and they had gone into a room labelled 'Housing Department'. No one was in there for the moment, but the door had been locked, and they had walked right through it. That was something that Fletcher didn't know if he would be able to get used to. Dimitri had gone to a large filing cabinet and opened it with no problem. Shouldn't there have been a lock on something like that?

"How are you even able to do this?" Fletcher asked. "I thought we can't interact with the living world."

"This place has been the same way long enough that there are many imprints," Dimitri said. "The ink won't fade. And the drawers are easy to open for us."

Fletcher continued to watch as Dimitri rummaged through the files. He supposed that he couldn't complain too much. After all, Dimitri was doing this to help him, which reminded him…

"Why are you helping me?" Fletcher asked. "I mean… we're strangers, right? Or…"

"I told you that it's rare to see people like us," Dimitri said. "It's lonely. I mean, we can go into the streets and be surrounded by the living, but we can't interact with them. It's lonely, being surrounded by people going about their lives while you're stuck the way you are."

Fletcher flinched. When Dimitri described it like that… He supposed that this would be lonely. And Fletcher would probably be like that for a while as well.

"Oh, here it is," Dimitri said.

Fletcher came closer. It was a folder, and on the front of the folder was the name 'Kirkland'. Dimitri opened the folder and scanned the contents.

"Okay, I know where this is," he said. He turned to Fletcher. "Are you ready for a family reunion? Well, sort of."

Fletcher nodded. Perhaps, if he could see his family, he would be able to remember more about himself. He didn't know if it would help, but he knew that it bothered him, not knowing anything about himself. It was as though a vital part of himself was gone.

…Well, other than his vitality, of course.

Dimitri put the folder back where he found it, and the two left the office. Fletcher's instincts told him that they wouldn't have been able to just leave the building if they had been alive, but as Dimitri said, it didn't matter. No one stopped them. No one noticed them at all.

…

"Well?" Dimitri asked. "Does it seem familiar?"

Fletcher nodded. He was looking up at a brick house. The roof was a dark red, and Fletcher could vaguely recall seeing a child jumping from the roof, and that he knew that it wasn't the first time that something like that happened.

The front door opened, and Fletcher jumped. He almost expected the person that came out to immediately notice him, but the other only went to the mailbox. He looked as though he hadn't slept well, and his green eyes were somewhat dull. A name popped into Fletcher's mind.

"Jett…" he muttered.

His brother, who had jumped off of the roof in a misguided attempt to see if he could fly. Fletcher wasn't sure whether their father or their mother scolded him more.

"Do you want to go inside?" Dimitri asked.

Fletcher started. Jett was already on his way back inside, a stack of envelopes in his hand. Fletcher swallowed, before he followed his brother.

The foyer had several photos, and as Fletcher looked at them, memories seemed to flood back to him. There was a photo of Fletcher's first day of school, along with Jett and their other siblings. Fletcher blinked as he recalled their names.

"Jack," Fletcher said. "Wendy."

There was a clatter further in, and Fletcher followed the sound. He arrived in the kitchen, where Jack and Wendy were eating their breakfasts. Both of them looked downcast. Jett placed the stack of envelopes on the kitchen counter before he sank into an empty chair. He brought the cereal closer to him.

"Any word yet?" Jack asked.

Jett shook his head.

"It's been four days," Wendy said. "They'll find him, right?"

Fletcher's chest tightened. They were talking about him.

"I'm right here," Fletcher said. "I'm here."

Dimitri placed his hand on Fletcher's shoulder, and the younger sank to the ground.

"I know," Dimitri said. "This is painful. No matter how close you are, you're always too far."

"Why did you bring me here, then?" Fletcher asked. "If you knew that this would hurt so much…?"

"Because everyone needs to go through this at some point. It helps you to let them go."

"What if I don't want to let them go?"

"You'll be chained with them, forever, and they won't be able to carry on with their lives either. Is that really what you want?"

Fletcher swallowed. He looked around at his siblings. He shook his head.

"Take all the time you need," Dimitri said. "We're in no rush."

Fletcher closed his eyes. Was it possible for them to cry? Because he was sure that he should have been crying by now.

A memory crept up to him. They were in a park or something. They were playing rugby together. It was just an informal game. And then Fletcher needed to go to the bathroom. When he came out…

"Someone grabbed me," Fletcher muttered.

"Sorry?" Dimitri asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I was out with my siblings," Fletcher said, opening his eyes. "I went to the bathroom, and then… someone grabbed me."

"Are you sure?"

Fletcher nodded.

"I don't…" he muttered.

"Do you remember where it was?" Dimitri asked. "We might have a clearer clue as to what exactly happened to you."

Fletcher swallowed.

"I-I think so," he said.

If someone grabbed him… a-and he woke up dead in an unfamiliar place… was he kidnapped? If so, why? And what happened to him, before he was killed?

Fletcher shuddered and shook his head.

"No," he sobbed. "I can't. I don't want to…"

"What's wrong?" Dimitri asked.

"I don't think I want to know anymore," Fletcher said.

"What changed your mind?"

"I… I think I was murdered. W-why else would…? I-it just…"

"It's the most logical conclusion." Dimitri sighed. "Alright. I think we've tried to get enough of your memories back for today. Do you want to come with me to one of my favourite spots?"

Fletcher looked up at Dimitri, before he looked back at his siblings. He couldn't stay. With Dimitri, at least, he could learn to adapt to his new situation. But if he stayed and saw his siblings the way they were now… And worse, what if they eventually found out about his death?

He couldn't be around for that. He understood that. And if the memory returned to him of how exactly that happened, and why… He didn't want to have to experience it through his family's perspective.

"Let's go," Fletcher said. "I don't think I should be here anymore."

Dimitri helped him up, and they walked to the door.

"You can come by to visit them again," Dimitri said. "And no matter what happens, or what you remember… I'll be by your side."

Fletcher smiled. At least he wouldn't be alone.

The prompt is: 'After they died, A completely lost their memory. With the help of B, they try and piece together their life and how it came to an end.'