He had his fingers spread over the keyboard, prepared to formulate a response, yet his fingers drew back again and one hand went up to his lips. This was how it kept going on. Netherlands would tentatively touch the keyboard, withdraw, then try again. Keys, lips, keys- never achieving his vague goal of announcing his presence. Dozens of unread messages were awaiting him, but before reading them he wondered if he should type something to post for everyone to see; a sort of I'm back that was to the point, which he could ignore all responses to.

He could not bring himself to do it when heavy sorrow wrapped itself tightly around him, taped on with strips of fear. Netherlands did not know what responses would return to him, if caps locked comments of MURDERER would fly back, or other hurtful things such as: go die again, monster, and how dare you return. He had not spoken to a single one of them since he had returned. He had never been found but he wondered if this was because no one had gone looking for him. Perhaps they did not care, so now he was stuck pondering if he should type the message if that was the case.

My siblings never came for me. The Nordics never came although they promised they would… And where is my little rabbit? Why did no one look for me? Netherlands grimaced. They don't forgive me. Switzerland they could, but not me. I must be hated.

Negative thoughts controlled him until he finally read his messages. Just the first one caused him to freeze with his hand glued to the mouse as a fresh influx of tears spilled down his face. He slowly clicked the next one, and then the next, crying harder after each one he read. It did not make sense at first, and Netherlands could not help but whine, "How?" to himself in a tight, high voice.

So many questions whirled in his mind. He wondered how he could be missed, why they wanted to comfort him with visits and hugs, why they were asking constantly where he was, and why they were begging for him just to say a word. He received messages from everyone who had been involved in the summer madness; all who had been infected wanted to help him through the pain, and the Nordics said many times that his actions were not his fault and they wanted to know if he was alright. Luxembourg and Belgium reassured him that they loved him and wanted to see him.

He was overwhelmed with emotion, but what drove that final nail into his heart was the sight of the photo Belgium had sent. It was of Luxembourg with his large dog Perlutze stuck to his leg with his tongue rolled out, and in his arms was Netherlands' rabbit snuggling into his fine clothing.

We found her, Belgium had written. But where are you, brother? Please come home. Please don't hide from us.

Netherlands had not meant to be unfindable. When he had returned, he had forgotten everything. An old couple had taken him in, too lonely and selfish to report to the police that they had found a lost child. While they had taken care of him well, he soon left once he grew up and remembered. He had wandered his country, letting his depression build as more and more memories haunted him. He realized only now that it was his fault no one had located him. They had looked. But he had gone all over the country.

He had avoided Amsterdam because he did not want to think of his own body deep underground, crushed, burnt, and rotting. Netherlands went out to random cities aimlessly, and he had returned to the forest where he had buried Belgium. He had succeeded in finding the branch he had dragged over the spot, and he had removed it to start pawing at the ground. After only a few scrapes in, he had grown afraid and put everything back before hurrying out to the nearest city where he was now at one of the computers of its library.

I am so stupid. It was my fault!

He was receiving strange looks from passing people. They did not recognize him and they wondered why this man was bawling in front of a picture of a rabbit. They might have thought that it was because those in the photo had died, but it was in truth just about the opposite.

Netherlands simply loved them so much and he wanted to see them more than anything else in the world. He could go to them now, but then he pondered if he should make his appearance in front of everyone who wanted to see him at once. He saw that they were trying to set up a meeting for everyone who had been involved, because despite his lack of communication in the last two months, they had sent an invitation to him.

Netherlands sniffed and his mouth lifted into a trembling smile. They all cared about him and he felt that he did too for them, even about those he had never been so close to. He placed his fingers back over the keys and finally left his message.

I am so sorry for everything. I love you all and I will be coming to that meeting.

He kept his promise and he showed up to the meeting, although unlike his usual, he had come late. Netherlands was the last to arrive out of all who had showed up and once he got to the doorway to the room, he could only stand and look at all who were here.

Belgium and Luxembourg were whole and unscarred, side-by-side wearing smiles and looking bright with health as they chatted with others. The five Nordics were all together, standing in the back and conversing with Switzerland, Austria, Liechtenstein, and Hungary. Netherlands watched Finland for a moment, perked up with his shining eyes that had not yet caught sight of him. Netherlands' gaze drifted over to see Russia wandering around donning affection, and he was surprised to see that everyone seemed more than glad to return his hugs.

Netherlands knew immediately that he had missed so much. Russia had been raised among many and was no longer feared, obvious when the Baltics did not even twitch when he carefully took each one into his arms. Prussia had also forgiven Germany, and was happily by his side with one arm wrapped around his brother's shoulders. No one had any bitter feelings at all to those who had been like him, not even those who had been murdered by them. Netherlands watched Hong Kong approach Germany without fear in his eyes and he saw Turkey going over to Russia.

A chair flew back as a voice gasped, "Netherlands!"

Luxembourg raced over to him. Belgium trailed him but had to wait her turn as Luxembourg flew into him and tightly embraced him. Netherlands inhaled and squeezed him before running his hands all over his back. Luxembourg was warm and real. Netherlands bent down enough to nuzzle him and croon by his ear, "I'm so glad you're back!"

"Likewise," Luxembourg murmured before he stepped back to let Belgium take his place. Netherlands treated her with equal love until he was led away by her towards the others who were gazing at him in excitement.

"You came!" Denmark exclaimed. He ran over and glomped him, rocking him side-to-side as he cried out, "We looked and looked for you! I'm so sorry… I know I promised, but we just couldn't find you…"

"It was my fault," Netherlands sighed. He let his eyes fall shut now as he started to relish the hugs he was receiving. Everything was so nice- everyone was so kind. He wished it had always been this way before all the drama. It was hard to believe they had ever fought when just sharing hugs felt so much better.

Denmark stepped back and Netherlands rubbed at the tears that had collected in the corners of his eyes. Once he had removed his hands he saw Sweden approaching him. Netherlands jolted and his eyes widened as he remembered in a flash the splatter of skull and brain when he had killed Sweden. He paled and felt ill suddenly, and guilty when he met Sweden's eyes.

"I-It… I didn't-" Netherlands tried to speak.

Sweden's expression did not change. Netherlands did not know what he was thinking, but Sweden stepped in and wrapped his arms around him. Netherlands graciously put his hands on his back and hung his head over his shoulder. He did not realize he was choking on apologies until Sweden mumbled for him to stop blaming himself because he knew it wasn't him who had done it.

Finland came next and it was about the same thing. Once everyone went to sit down to actually begin the meeting, Netherlands' face was already soaked from the intermittent tears that had escaped him. He sat between his siblings and dabbed at his nose with a tissue that he had brought in preparation.

His throat felt sore and he was unsure if he would be able to talk when it came to his turn, but it turned out that he did not have to go first anyway. Germany began to speak and everyone listened eagerly. Not much was said, for Germany remembered nothing he had done. He could only express his sorrow after having had learned about the events once he had matured. It was the same with Russia, who had also not been conscious but was blatantly upset that he had terrorized and killed nations and innocent people. Right now he had one of his victims in his lap, China, who added to the story like others did and explained that Russia had taken off his head with an ax. Hurting more to hear it again, Russia slid his arms further around him with a frightened expression overtaking his face.

Sweden remembered some parts of what he had done. He did not remember killing, but he recalled voices in his head and travelling between places. The attack on Denmark's house was not remembered either, but once the chemicals had left him allowing him to regain his senses, he was fully conscious when Russia and Germany restrained him before Netherlands executed him.

Netherlands sank down where he was sitting and hid his face behind his hands. Belgium and Luxembourg were there to comfort him, and if they had not been there Netherlands was sure that he would have puked again. He dropped his hands down and revealed his teary visage as Switzerland now explained his story, which was already familiar because most of it had already been told. He went through it quickly although he, like Netherlands, remembered everything.

It came the time for everyone to hear the story that they had never heard. They were anxious to hear it; Netherlands knew they were vastly more focused because they all stared at him instead of down and they had inclined themselves in his direction. The eyes made him all the more nervous and his throat seized up again. It was such a long story with so much in it that he did not want to relay.

I can't do it.

"Netherlands," Britain said in the silence that Netherlands had accidentally let drag on. "We know that in the beginning, you had nothing to do with the organization. The fact that the headquarters was in your country means nothing."

Netherlands nodded slowly. It had helped to hear this. He swallowed then slowly began to speak.

"I was afraid."

The silence was thick. He felt as though his voice was louder and clearer than it really was because of it and he was aware of his every stutter and the fluctuations in tone. His heart throbbed as he feared that the others thought he was faking it all.

"I had a soldier to protect me because I did not want to be killed," he continued. "With Sweden on the loose, I was so stressed. But then when I was accused, I lost the soldier that had been so good. After the interrogations I received another soldier, but he was a member of that organization. He let them into my house and they made me Number Five. That same day, Belgium showed up and… I-I could not control myself. Somehow they can- could convince you to do anything. I wanted to kill her. I said horrible things because of the anger and I just tore her apart…"

Netherlands was managing to hold onto his voice for the most part, picking up after the pauses because venting was relieving the tension.

"I helped them plan the attack against the Nordics. I was on the roof shooting those arrows… and when we failed, I killed Sweden. Afterwards we went directly to Luxembourg's place and I pretended I was normal b-but I promise- it still was not me! I was so twisted inside and I could control nothing. I attacked him then let the others kill him, and still I could feel nothing. I acted to manipulate everyone, even at my brother's funeral. Sometimes I felt just a bit of emotion before they took over, like when I was speaking to the Nordics on the computer, I had nearly spilled the secret. But how can I explain how profound my helplessness was? I know it seemed like me, so you may believe that I had chosen to do these things no matter what you say to my face..."

Immediately the room erupted into disagreement and the lack of hesitation comforted him. Belgium cried, "No! We know that you didn't want to do this!"

"Thank you," Netherlands whispered while turning his head to touch against hers. Then, he swallowed with discomfort and squeezed his arms against his sides while shifting his hands over his lap. He felt overly exposed suddenly as he recalled just exactly his helplessness around his soldier.

"The thing about that soldier… He… I-I was…" He did not want to use that word. It was so hard to form on his tongue that it was as though his mouth was filled with peanut butter. He thought of a synonym, but it was impossible to say as well. His throat only tightened further and he felt as though he was burning up entirely. Netherlands' eyes watered anew and he slowly crossed his legs.

No one surmised what he was having difficulty saying. When they saw him breaking composure, they flocked to him just to help him calm down. Netherlands exhaled a sob as multiple hands rested on him, rubbing, staying, and moving around him to complete a hug. People stepped in and out, letting others leave their print of caring on him. He felt like a soft doll being passed around loving hands; their touches were so gentle that he knew he was safe. With their help his crying ebbed and he could continue on.

"The soldier from the organization," Netherlands murmured. They had to listen attentively to hear his quiet words. "I ended up killing him, but… but he… every day- and I couldn't resist…"

"Oh." France frowned and his eyes went wide as he was the first to understand. After he had said this, everyone else seemed to get it. Netherlands leaned into someone and did not know who it was at first, but they put their large, warm hands on his back and it was so supporting. He put his hands then face into their front and breathed shakily.

Netherlands heard a chair sliding in and he knew it was given to the person holding him because he felt them lower down. Once they were sitting behind and to the side of him, Netherlands shifted his seat and wiggled into this person.

With his eyes closed, Netherlands went on to say, "There was a time though, when the chemicals ran out and I was me again. And I felt so horrible for everything I had done. All I could do was scream, cry, and puke. They put more in me of course, then I went on planning and using poison hemlock to hurt everyone. The plans started to fail however, but I am glad. Now it is over an-and everyone came back..."

It was so pleasant to have his back rubbed. Netherlands could tell at least that this was not Belgium and Luxembourg doing this for him because the hands were not familiar. He creaked open his eyes and saw black, which did not help much because so many were wearing casual clothes of that shade. It was a rather comfortable sweater nevertheless, which combined with his vulnerable emotions, made him want to be small, held, and cuddled. He wished this time that he was not so tall just so this could be easier, but at least the person holding him right now was his height.

Someone else was stroking their hand up along his hardened hair. They patted their hand on the gelled spikes and he turned his head and saw Russia's scarf beside him. That was fine; he had seen how amiable everyone had been to Russia and Netherlands did not feel resentment for him now. He liked Russia's hand playing with his hair and petting the side of his face, and he liked whoever had their hands over his, and the many hands touching his shoulders and back.

It was amazing how warm his heart felt when he had never truly felt so affectionate to people in his life. In the past, most relations had been strictly for business because anything else he had considered to be time-consuming. Now though, he felt as though he could purr in this absolute coziness. The best he could do was produce a blissful humming sound as he snuggled into the person hugging him.

"Wow," Denmark breathed out with a chuckle. "I never thought you could be so sweet!"

Netherlands pulled back to be able to lift his head and clarify that Denmark was the one who had spoken and been holding him. He bowed his head, now feeling unwelcome, but Denmark waved away these feelings by placing his hand on the back of Netherlands' head and guiding it back down to his chest. His hand slid down and rubbed his back as the hug re-tightened.

"Hey," Denmark murmured. "Everything's alright."

Netherlands did not feel like he needed to cry anymore. So easily the sadness and fear were slipping away to be replaced by happiness. Denmark's words did not come across as stereotypical to him because they were truthful. Everything was truly alright now. Fire and Brimstone was gone and with them, the horrible technology. Any other deaths was the fault of the organization as well and not theirs to feel guilty about. All the nations who were back were understanding and more kind to him than they had ever been before.

Life was certainly not going back to normal; it would get better than what it was before.

"Yeah," Netherlands sighed. "Thanks to what you and Norway did."

Norway, standing among the other Nordics, blinked then smiled softly. Denmark did as well and replied, "Well, anyone else would have done it. We were just the first ones to that building."

Netherlands took away his arms to replace them around Denmark's neck. He rose up then set his chin on his collarbone. Once settled here, he said, "But thank you, for ending it..."

Netherlands found himself liking that word. Before, Fire and Brimstone had used that word often to mean only death. Now it had a positive meaning: the end of pain. And this end was not so final; a new beginning would commence because of it. The thought of what was to come filled him with euphoria and now it was tears of joy that escaped him.

When Netherlands sniffed by his ear, Denmark knew that he was no longer sad but he still wanted to reassure him with a sort of promise. One that would signify that they would never forget the bonds created after surviving this hardship together.

"Don't worry," Denmark whispered to him. "I know I couldn't find you before, but I got you now."

The End