Hey guys, I'm back. Sorry, sorry sorry, for the long wait; life kinda happened. Anyways, I'm back now, but I'm starting to run out of ideas for evil things to do to the remaining characters, so unless I think of something or one of you guys suggest something awesome, I think I'll start to wrap this story up in the next chapter.

Disclaimer: Own Hetalia I do not.

Chapter 11- My World

"LICHTENSTEIN!" Switzerland bellowed as the purple haze enveloped him.

He could barely make out the shapes of a few other nations moving about in the haze, he swiveled about, yelling again. Someone bumped his left arm, causing him to inadvertently squeeze the trigger. The resounding boom filled Switzerland's ears, quickly replaced by a dull ringing. In the fog a few feet away, one of the shadowy figures dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The gun slipped from his fingers as Switzerland gasped desperately for breath, and soon he lost the battle for air and fell to the ground.

Something was very, very wrong. The house felt so much more empty than usual. Switzerland strode slowly down the hallway, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the nagging feeling of wrongness. As he approached the door to Lichtenstein's room, he pushed the door open with a sudden urgency and rushed inside.

Switzerland froze; his mouth hanging slightly open in shock. The room was completely bare, Lichtenstein's bed, dresser, everything was gone. A window on the far side of the room showed a sunny, clear day.

Suddenly convinced that he had entered the wrong room, Switzerland ran through the house, throwing open doors and yelling for his little sister. His bedroom, the study, the kitchen; all were exactly as he remembered them, yet they seemed somehow darker and more foreboding without Lichtenstein's cheery presence to brighten up the house.

It was as he was heading towards his weapons room, that there came a knock at the door. Looking up sharply, Switzerland ran, nearly tripping over his own feet, fumbled clumsily with the lock and threw the door open. He had fully expected to see Lichtenstein standing there in the door way, smiling at him; yet it was not her that stood there.

Austria cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, a glass casserole dish in his hands, "Can I…uh… come in?"

Nodding wordlessly, Switzerland stepped aside to allow the other nation in.

"Some of the others are on their way, I invited a few of them and everyone decided to come, I hope you don't mind." Austria stated as he headed to the kitchen to place down his dish, "I told them you would probably want to be alone right now, but they wanted to pay their respects. Lichtenstein touched all of our lives more than we ever realized."

"I… don't understand." Switzerland said quietly as the other nation moved into the den. He followed, sinking down into a comfortable blue chair.

Austria sighed, "Losing someone we love is always difficult. You don't have to go through this alone, you know."

As he spoke, there was another knock at the door and Austria rose to answer it, motioning for Switzerland to remain seated. When the door was opened, several voices greeted one another and Austria returned, followed by Germany, America, England, France, Italy, Russia, and one other nation whose name Switzerland could not remember. Each of them carried some sort of gift; France, a bottle of wine, America, a large bag of fast food, England, a plate of scones, etc. (I'll give you one guess what Italy brought) Each of them placed their offering in the kitchen, somber and silent all the while.

It was England who broke the chilling silence first, "We are all terribly sorry for your loss. It…It wasn't your fault, you know… sometimes these things just happen."

All of the nations nodded in agreement, murmuring their condolences as well. Tears sparkled in France's eyes as he spoke, "War is such a terrible thing, they claim so many lives," he sighed, looking down at his hands, "it is always the young who suffer in war, those who should go on to live full and happy lives, yet they never do, it is us who live on to bear the weight of their deaths." France shook his head solemnly, as if trying to rid himself of the painful memories.

Switzerland's head spun. War? Death? It couldn't be; he struggled to wrap his head around what he was hearing. Lichtenstein, his sweet, innocent little sister… dead? As the thought entered his mind, suddenly everything snapped into place with sickening clarity, his imagination filling in the gap of what he did not know. Lichtenstein was dead, in a war that he had presumably fought in, possibly even started. It was his fault; the thought wormed its way unbidden into his heart and filled his being with dread.

"Switzerland?" Austria's voice broke through his stupor and Switzerland sucked in a faltering breath.

"M-my fault…" He gasped, trying not to cry in front of the others. Switzerland clenched his fists and felt his fingernails cutting into his palms as he drew in another shaky breath.

He felt a pair of warm hands take his and France's smooth voice spoke, "do not say such things, this was no one's fault. Least of all, yours."

Switzerland tore his hands away, "IT WAS!" He screamed, grabbing a lamp from a nearby table and hurling it at the wall. Italy yelped as the lamp broke against the wall and Switzerland sank to his knees sobbing.

Moments later, a pair of arms wrapped him in their embrace, followed by another, but he did not look up to see who it was. After all, it didn't really matter, Lichtenstein was dead, and his world was gone.

Next Chapter:

not really sure yet. Its probably going to be the beginning of the end though.