Timor.

Chapter Five.

"So, what's the next step in your plan to aggravate these ghosts?" England spat with his knees drawn up to his chest in the small enclosed space. America peeked outside of the sliding closet door, no more light being let in than there already was in the space.

"Shh, I'm thinking." With his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, England could make out the American's form opposite himself: short lamp in his hand with the lamp shade as some kind of helmet. "Since we lured the ghosts out we just have to beat them up now!"

"Idiot." The Englishman scoffed while crossing his arms over his still bare legs. 'Beating the ghosts' would have been simpler had America not grabbed England and barricaded them into the closet. A moment of heavy silence filled the room and America thrust the closet door open with a sudden heave, standing up and walking out.

"I think whatever was in here is uh… Gone."

"Lovely. I suppose that's all according to your plan?"

"…Sure." Taking a few steps forward, America hissed and picked up his foot in the hand that was not occupied by the lamp. "Arthur, hang on. There's broken glass everywhere." Moving to his right, America felt the wall for an outlet before plugging in the lamp in his hand. The switch was pushed on and blinding yellow light spilled onto the corners of the room, England's eyes squinting as he looked around. Broken glass and ceramics littered the carpeting, the vases that decorated the tables now only sharp reminders on the floor of the shape they once possessed. The two barely recognizable photos that were hanging over the bed had the glass shattered out of them, littering the messy bedding with shimmering crystals.

England carefully stepped through the debris at his feet and over to America, taking the lamp out of his hand and smacking the lamp shade off him to join the rest of the mess on the floor. He pulled the cord slightly around the corner near the bathroom door where the lamp light was reflected into his eyes at dangerous angles. Shattered pieces of mirror showed him many small pictures of himself as he stepped around the pile to shine the light into the bathroom itself. All the glasses that had been sat on the sink were also shattered, and England leaned back against the wall.

"Good Lord."

"They wrecked my phone."

"What?"

"I don't know what time it is, now the clock is messed up."

"Fucking…" Walking across the room to take the phone, England saw he spoke the truth. "Well, what do we do? Put those horror movies of yours to work."

"Yeah, about that…"

"What're you talking about?" England narrowed his eyes at the younger.

"Most of the people in the horror movies die. I don't know if you want to follow them." America smiled nervously while England smacked him on the back of the head.

"Well, now you've gone and upset them and we're stuck here with no way out. Fantastic."

"At least a little bit of my plan worked out!"

"What're you talking about? I hardly consider this 'working out'!" England threw his arms out in reference to the room.

"Buuuuut, I did find out that the front desk dude is the one behind all this. Because as soon as I pissed him off, all this bad stuff kicked in worse!" Proud of himself, America crossed the perilous room to get his boxers. Shaking the glass from them, he slid his legs into them and pulled upwards. "And now we can go down stairs and laugh at him!" England stared at him for a minute.

"What is that going to accomplish?"

"…I dunno. But I just really don't want to be in this room anymore if the ghosts are coming back!" Now seeing the waver in America' grin, the elder moved towards the window and peeked out of a small space between two of the wooden planks.

"I can see sunlight through the clouds. It's almost dawn," England said stepping back. "Perhaps when it's completely light out we should try to get into your car again and get to the meeting."

"If we last that long, sure."

XxXxXxX

Canada drove through the familiar streets, trying to keep his wits about him. It had been quite a long time since anyone had heard from his brother or from England and he was beginning to get worried. He left his hotel room a half hour prior after not being able to reach even America's voice mail. He waited and waited and the beep never came. When he sent text messages, they never sent. Something was definitely wrong.

Pulling into America's empty driveway, Canada became even more concerned with the possibility that they definitely left but the duo never made it to their hotel…

'No,' The Canadian asserted while stepping out of his car. 'Don't think like that. Al would never…' The thought trailed off as he made his way up the stairs and to the front door, using the gaudy American flag painted key that his brother had given him to unlock the door. Pushing it open, he was left with nothing unusual. Soda cans sat on the coffee table as well as an empty bag of chips next to a game controller that blinked while trying to find signal. Poking his head around, Canada saw nothing that would be of any help on either the dining room table or the kitchen counter.

Turning the corner, Canada walked down the hall way to America's office and pushed the slightly opened door inward, looking around at the messy desk for anything. He took a seat in the too-puffy computer chair and started searching through document after document of anything that could give him a lead but to no avail. Sighing, he put his fist down on the table, the mouse moving slightly from the position it was in and bringing the large computer monitor to life.

Looking to the desktop that sported a cluster of super heroes in various positions, Canada laid his hand over the mouse and moved it down to the bottom tool bar and hovered over it. Sure enough, America had left an internet browser open. Sighing to himself, the Canadian clicked the down arrow on the internet history bar and was met with just what he was looking for.

"Alright Al, your carelessness actually paid off for once." He grabbed a piece of scrap paper and started scribbling.

XxXxXxX

"I do not want to stay in this hazard of a room any longer! Just go down to the front desk and ask for a new room!" England was getting huffier by the minute (at least America thought it was a minute, without a working clock he really had no idea) and was now refusing to stay in the room. Cuts now littered the pale skin of his feet and lower legs from just trying to maneuver himself around the room, and England was more than fed up. America only groaned.

"What happened to just sticking it out until someone comes to get us!"

"That was before I realized that I can't even sit in the bed without gaining a piece of glass in my arse!"

"You're kinky, you should be able to deal with it," The younger muttered under his breath while grabbing the hotel room key. "I just don't want to see that creepy hotel guy after what happened last night."

"Well, that's just something you're going to have to deal with. I'm sure as hell not. You were the bastard who wanted to rub this whole thing in his face a few hours previous." England continued to pack their belongings up for the final time and America grabbed the key off the bed, only barely escaping a very treacherous looking piece of ceramic. Heading for the door, he opened it quickly and waited until he heard it slam behind him before moving down the hallway slowly.

Really not wanting to make the (in his mind) very long excursion to the front desk, America's blue eyes traveled to his left where a door very similar to his room's now stood. He stopped in front of it and, almost out of curiosity, pushed the key into the key hole and turned. Surprisingly enough, the door creaked open, knotting his stomach at the thought of anyone with the same key being able to access their own room. Walking back up the hallway, the American nation knocked on the door which was answered after a few beats by England.

"Got us a new room." America pointed down the hall to the next door.

"That was quick. Now how terrible was facing the front desk clerk?" The elder of the two pulled the suitcases through the pieces of their room which created sharp clinking noises followed by the slam of the door.

"Not too bad considering I didn't even have to go downstairs."

"…Then how did you…?"

"Apparently these keys work for all the rooms in the hotel." England's face paled. "Well, hopefully the ghosts don't get smart and follow us."

"If you're hopeful of that, then don't tempt them this time." Pushing the door open to the new room, England walked in and turned the light on, a similar set up to their previous room meeting their eyes. The only major difference was the window was not boarded up, it was missing. The cloudy sky outside shedding enough light to expose the obvious water damage on the dingy carpet.

"Well, this is so much better."

"Hush," England said placing the bags down next to the bed. "Just take your suit and get ready. We'll walk down to the main road and try to flag someone down and borrow a phone."

"Walk? In our suits? Dude, it's freaking hot outside!"

"We have to do something, Alfred." England handed the American his familiar tan suit. His eyes moved to the bathroom in suggestion as the other sighed. "At least it looks like the clouds are covering most of the sun."

"Fine, I'll be ready soon." Walking into the bathroom, America tried his hardest not to think about the last time he was alone in the shower and the incidents that followed. He washed his face and slipped his suit on, fixing his tie while staring intently back at his reflection and trying to make himself presentable. Happy with his clothing, he ran a hand through his hair to straighten it, Nantucket still sticking up proudly at the part in his bangs, and reached for his glasses which clattered to the floor. Mumbling a curse, America bent down to grasp them and put them on his face.

Going to take one last look in the mirror, his heart stopped as his reflection stared back at him, not matching the current position he held. Almost more disturbing, the reflection did not have glasses on him. America moved his arms slowly and bit by bit, the reflection not bothering to follow him. Deciding to stay no longer, he tried to move for the door but couldn't help but continue to look at the reflection in the mirror. Its lips began to curl upwards into a smile and almost faster than America could react, the reflection wound its hand back and slammed its fist into the glass of the mirror, the pieces raining down on the sink and the floor with a few shooting back towards him.

America had stumbled back into the shower, yanking the curtain down under his weight as England ran into the bathroom, thrusting the door open and staring wide eyed at the young nation as his chest heaved in uneven breaths.

"What the hell did you do!"

"There was a me in the mirror! It moved and it… It punched out the glass and it…" America was pointing to the blank brown space on the wall where the mirror once belonged. England stared back and forth from the floor to America, a small cut under his right eye leaking a small stream of blood down his cheek and suddenly felt the same choked feeling he had felt the first night they had arrived. The glass crunched under his dress shoes as he walked further into the tiny room and crouched down to the floor. Squinting at the small slivers, he could make out many tiny reflections of America in each piece, keeping up a rather deranged look as it swayed back and forth. Flying back, England swallowed heavily and took a deep breath.

He had had enough.

"Alfred, grab the bags, we're going downstairs and we're getting out of here for good."

"But what about the dude at the-"

"I don't care. I'm getting to the bottom of this no matter whom or what stands in my way." As if to prove his point, England stomped out of the bathroom and through the room door. Now alone, America scrambled to his feet and did as England requested by grabbing the bags, fleeing the room without closing the door. As he hurried after the elder down the hall, he heard a door slam behind him and for a brief second actually considered turning around… But if there's one thing his horror films taught him, it was never explore a strange sound, no matter how loud it may be.