Disclaimer: I own neither The Hunger Games nor Hetalia. Just this fic is mine.

I have come back to you broken

Take me home

I have shattered under midnight

Take me home

Take me back to my beginning, before the hell of night set in

And I came to this border

Take me home

-The Wailin' Jennys "Starlight"

England sat at the large table, absentmindedly playing with his fingers. Most of the nations had already arrived, except for a handful that always arrived late, and America. He was usually the first one there or earlier. However, this didn't bother him so much. People were allowed to arrive late once in a while.

Some time passed and all the other nations had arrived, save America. That was odd, since America had never once been the last one there, and had always insisted that heroes would always be there on time, in case someone needed saving or something like that. So why was he late now? At any rate, the meeting couldn't officially begin until everyone was present. The nations chatted amongst each other idly, almost glad for the break in time.

However, a full hour came and went and there was still no sign of America. England was a bit frustrated, as they had to get the meeting started, and the fact that they were waiting on America just served to fuel his frustration even more.

France leaned over to him from where he was sitting. "Angleterre, do you know where America is? It's not like him to be late," he asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to throttle him when he gets here," England replied snappishly. He wasn't really the kind to wait on someone for very long.

France frowned thoughtfully. "Have you heard anything from him lately? Like in the last two or three months?" he asked, a slight note of worry coloring his tone.

"Come to think of it, no. I haven't really thought about it, but it is strange that I haven't heard from him in a while, boasting about how much of a hero he is," England said quietly, thinking. Could something be wrong with the git? He certainly hoped not. "Maybe I should call and see where he is," he added as an afterthought.

He rose from his seat and stepped out quietly into the hall, dialing as he went. America answered on the sixth ring.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello. It's me, England. Um, I don't know if you got the message, but there's a meeting today. Where in the world are you?"

America sighed deeply over the phone. "Yeah, I know about the meeting and everything, but my boss says I'm not allowed to attend anything like that right now. Sorry to make you guys wait and all."

"No, that's fine. What do you mean your boss doesn't want you to attend? And why haven't we talked in months? Is something going on over there?"

"It's nothing really, just some hard times at the moment. Nothing to get concerned over. But my boss needs me over here right, just to help him with some stuff. It's really nothing though."

America denied it three times in that one sentence. And his boss wasn't letting him attend the meeting. England didn't care what he said, something was definitely going on. "America, you're really a terrible liar, you know that? If you're boss says you can't come to the meeting, then fine. But I'm coming over there as soon as this meeting's over. No buts."

"No, England, please. I'll get in huge trouble with my boss if you do that. I'm not really supposed to be talking to anyone right now as it is. Please, England." America sounded almost panicked now.

His boss wasn't letting him talk to anyone? What the hell. However, if America was already disobeying a direct order from his boss, England didn't want to cause him anymore trouble. "Alright, I suppose. But call me sometime, okay? Just so I know that you're okay."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll try. Bye." And with that he hung up before England could say anything else.

England lowered the phone slowly. That was…odd to say the least. He walked back to the room slowly, mulling everything over. Something was happening in America, he just didn't know what. It was a big thing though, he could tell that much. And america's boss didn't want him in contact with any other nations? Why would that be? And America sounded so strange over the phone, very quiet, almost timid, and very not like America.

The nation shook himself slightly before entering the room. Almost immediately, he was bombarded with questions about where America was, and why wasn't he here, and didn't he think it was a bit rude to make everyone wait for him?

"America said that his boss wasn't allowing him to come," he answered when everyone had calmed down slightly, "and no, I don't know what's going on, or why he hasn't spoken to anyone over the last few months. All I know is that his boss won't allow him any contact with us."

The nations settled into an uneasy silence. It was rather unusual for something like that to happen, and none of them could even fathom what it meant.

"Maybe it has something to do with all the natural disasters that have been plaguing the continent," Mexico theorized.

Now all the people in the room turned to face her. "What natural disasters?" Spain asked quietly, thoughtful.

Mexico cleared her throat before saying, "Well, for a while now, there have been all kinds of random natural disasters taking place all over the continent. Earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes, and so on. But their also strange, because at first, they were far apart and with minor severity, but now they happen only days or even hours apart, and have devastated the land. I thought it was just my country, but now with how America is acting, I don't think that's the case." Mexico turned to the seemingly empty seat beside her. "Have you been suffering from any of these, Canada?"

England watched as, if almost by magic, a person materialized next to Mexico. Of course, once England saw him, he knew that it was Canada, and was rather embarrassed at the fact that he had once again neglected the nation's presence.

Canada shook his head. "Other than the occasional severe blizzard, nothing out of the ordinary," he said quietly.

"But then why would America's boss make him stay away from us? Wouldn't he want aid from us in this matter?" France asked.

Mexico shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't want to admit how bad things are yet. See if he can keep it under control before the word gets out."

At the head, Germany nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. But then how come your boss allowed you to come?"

"My boss wanted to know if this was happening anywhere else in the world, and also to see if we can get aid from anyone. It's tearing us apart right now."

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing these problems, possible solutions, and seeing if anyone else had suffered from them. Australia was having a hard drought, but nothing to serious right now. Italy noted that there seemed to be something off with his people, but again, the problem wasn't all that bad. However, many of the South American countries were suffering from the same conditions as the North, and were also in pretty desperate shape.

England sat through the meeting patiently, though constantly worrying about his brother.

Six hours later, he was walking up the drive to his home. He went up the stairs of his porch, but suddenly felt dizzy, and completely exhausted. He staggered, and nearly fell over, before managing to lean against the outside of the house. He slid down to the floor, too tired to remain standing. His head was suddenly pounding, and his whole body felt feverish.

What the hell? he thought to himself. Not even five minutes ago, he felt perfectly fine. And now here he was, leaning against the side of his house, too weak to stand. He wondered absently if it had anything to do with the cold going around. Maybe, if enough people had gotten it.

England didn't know how long he had been sitting there, when a shrill ringing caught his attention, making his headache worse. Slowly, with shaky fingers, he managed to dig his phone out of his pocket. "Hello?

"Arthur? Is that you?" England sighed heavily. His boss. As if his headache wasn't bad enough.

"Yes, sir, it's me. What do you want?" His words slurred together, and his tongue felt like lead.

"I was wondering if you've been feeling sick lately? You know, dizzy, weak, feverish, or headachey? There's a cold going around, and we're wondering how bad it is."

"Actually, funny you should ask at this moment, because I had some kind of attack, not thirty minutes before you called. It isn't too serious though, is it? Just a cold?"

"Yes, yes, that's all it is. Well thank you for telling me. We're getting to work on a cure right now. Good-bye Arthur." He didn't sound as convincing as England thought he should.

Quite suddenly, rain began to fall rapidly, pounding against the roof of the porch. England didn't think he was ready to move just yet, so he was grateful he was under the roof. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

It would all be over soon. Nothing to worry about.

Hello there, and thank you for reading the first chapter of this fic. To my followers who have already been reading this fic, I am going to rework most of the chapters, and also add some more. The general plot will stay the same, so there's no reason to read back, but I thought there could be some more depth added. I thought I could improve the writing style too. If you're brand new here, then never mind that. Also, the old title for this fic was "Becoming Panem". Just FYI, I guess.

Thank you guys so much for the reviews of the other chapters. So awesome!

Hint: I loooovvveee reviews! ;) *wink wink nudge nudge*

Thanks for reading!