Your face is the last I want to See

Chapter One

Another day, another world meeting, only this one was more quiet. There were no arguments between England and France or even with America, there were no objections from the Brit, no smart remarks, England was quiet the entire meeting, only nodding or shaking his head at any questions directed toward him. Canada and America both could see that he wasn't paying attention, especially when the Brit put his head down in his arms on the table.

The minute the meeting ended, instead of being one of the last to help clean up, England was the first to leave. France quickly followed out and grabbed onto the Brit's shoulder. "Britain~ what's wrong with you?~ Are you okay?" The French man asked.

"Y-yes." England shook France's hand off his shoulder. "I'm just a bit ill today."

"Aw~ Do you want France to help your sickness~?"

"No!" England glared and quickly got out the door. France stood there a bit, watching England leave, and America came up to the side of him.

"So he say what was wrong?" America asked.

"Not really, he just said he felt ill." France shrugged. "His economy isn't so good so it's expected."

"Yeah but even with him being a little sick, he's never been this quiet."

"Oui, I don't get it."

"I'll check on him later." America sighed and walked out. "See ya later Francy pants."

OOO

England walked into his empty dark house, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, only to slide down it and sit on the floor. He sat there for a moment blankly, then brought his knees to his chest and put his head down in his lap, tightening the grip around his legs. The words echoed in his head, it won't be much longer, he gripped his pants more.

Just a few days ago, England had gone to his doctor, one person who knew about him being a nation; only it was the sixth time in less than two weeks. Everyday he felt worse, his head ache was pounding, his body felt weak, he had no appetite anymore, he was exhausted but still couldn't sleep, everyday was worse than the last, he couldn't take it, and he wanted answers. What he got, wasn't what he wanted to hear or expected.

"Not so good," the doctor said and looked down at his chart. "Your bones and muscles have gotten much weaker, blood pressure isn't steady anymore, your heart rate isn't steady and it's been dropping, the head aches will probably get worse,-"

"W-What are you saying to me?"

"Your body has been breaking down for the last few decades, and now it's getting to an end." The doctor looked toward the confused Brit. "When you nations start to die, you disappear, eventually it happens to everyone."

"A-And it's going to happen to me?"

"Unfortunately, yes." he said. "Your body has been breaking down for too long, it can't be repaired in any way." England look down. "I could help you with the pain, make it easy, but I'm afraid it won't be much longer."

England sat there still, cold, alone, empty inside. He slowly lifted his head up to see only more of the emptiness, he was entirely alone at home. He slowly tried to get up through the pain of his aching bones. He came to his feet with the help of leaning against the door. He coughed a bit, not sure if he was coughing or coughing up blood. He tried breathing normally, but he couldn't take in any air with his coughs; he started falling back down again, it's worse now. He sat there again coughing until he was able to stop and finally just breathe again; that's when there was a knock. England lifted his head up a bit, he knew someone was standing outside the door behind him, but he didn't know who. "E-England," he could hear the soft voice outside. "A-Are you home? Are you okay?" England moved over a bit, away from the door the best he could. He coughed up more blood and couldn't breathe again, no matter how hard he tried to. Slowly, the stranger outside found the keys hidden under the mat and opened up the door to the dark house. England looked up a bit as he saw someone step in, Alfred? He started to give up and fall out of consciousness as the stranger slowly bent down to England. By the time he could say anything, the Brit was out.

England awoke the next morning in his bed. He slowly opened his eyes to the lightly dimmed room, the blinds opened enough just to see around the room. An wet cloth laid on his forehead, the blankets lightly over his body, a glass of water on the nightstand next to him. He turned over a bit to his side and looked around for anyone to be there, no one was there. He closed his eyes a bit with the pounding of his head ache, hoping shutting the lights out would help him a bit. When he heard someone come in, he opened his eyes again. "A-America?"

"S-Sorry, but no." Canada came in and over to the sick Brit. "I-It's Canada." England slowly blinked and looked at him, now he could see the boy.

"O-Oh…Canada…" England said, his voice was so scratchy. "D-Did you help me and put me here?"

"Y-Yeah. You looked really ill." Canada bent down a bit toward the sickly Brit. "You're very sick Britain…"

"R-Right. I know." England slowly got himself up on his forearm and pushed himself to sit up, against the Canadian's wishes of him to stay down and still.

"I-I thought your economy was getting better."

"It was… But um… This isn't really related to that."

"What? Whatda mean?" Canada asked. England looked over a bit at the boy, he frowned.

"I guess you'll be the first one I tell, Matthew." England said, Canada had full attention on the Brit. "I'm sick because my body can't take much more. I-," England paused for a moment. "I'm going to die… I'm going to disappear."