His head wouldn't stop throbbing. It was relentlessly painful, and he thought his head would explode any second like a volcano. Painkillers hadn't helped, and neither had water. He was running out of ideas. Alfred was never one to get headaches, but all of a sudden, one had chosen to creep up on him out of the blue and attack him, right in the middle of a G8 Meeting! It couldn't be worse timing!

Germany was giving a quick talk about their goals for the year and how they'd been going, but America couldn't focus. He was zoning in and out, and he could've sworn his vision was blurring every now and then. What was happening to him? Was it tiredness? Stress? He didn't know. With a sigh, he took another sip of water and did his best to listen to Ludwig, and now Francis, but his head pounded with each syllable. He physically winced with pain, rubbing roughly at his temples.

"America, is everything alright?" France enquired, having noticed the American's unusual behaviour. "I didn't think my voice was so terrible as to give people headaches, mon ami."

"You ought to listen to yourself more often then- OW! What the bloody hell was that for?!" England exclaimed, seething at the pain that had erupted across his shin.

"For being rude." Francis frowned.

America sighed, trying to block out the raising voices. "I'm not sure what brought it on, to be honest. My head just feels ready to burst. I'm fairly sure it's not because you were talking though, Francis."

"Ah, I am relieved. If your standard painkillers are not working, maybe some fresh air would help, non?" Francis suggested, giving a kind smile as he spoke. "I always find that it helps clear the head."

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea... If it's alright with everyone here, I might excuse myself for a few minutes." Alfred said. "Besides, I'm kinda just distracting everyone if I stay here. Germany?"

"Ja, by all means. Just be back quickly, alright? We aren't going to wait for you."

"No problemo, dude."

Alfred hurriedly rose from his seat, giving the room a quick salute before he disappeared through the wooden entrance doors. Once in the hallway, he let out a deep breath and tried to settle himself. He didn't understand. He hadn't had a headache for a century or two, so why the sudden migraine? With each step, the pounding inside his skull became stronger and harder to put up with.

'I need to get outside asap...'

All he had to do was head all the way down the stairs and turn left. The rear entrance to the building would be right there, and then hopefully he'd be fine. But he just had to get down all of the stairs. The first few steps were fine, and Alfred made it to the first landing with few problems. That's when his vision blurred again.

He reached out for the wall, leaning against it. His breathing quickened as he started to panic. This wasn't normal! There was no way he was experiencing a normal migraine, no matter how painful it was! As his sight slowly reverted back to its usual clarity, Alfred took several deep breaths to calm himself down again. Fresh air. He needed fresh air, and fast.

Done with taking it carefully, Alfred quickened his pace, stumbling down the next few steps. Every single muscle movement was now somehow triggering a stab of pain in his skull, but he didn't care. He would put up with it, put on a brave face, and be well again in no time. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Unfortunately, his mind didn't have control over his body, and with the sixth step, a final bout of blindness and the ultimate wave of thumping sent Alfred falling, both physically and unconsciously. As his limp body impacted on the hard, carpeted floor, four ghost-like things seemed to shoot out across the room in different colours. Red, blue, grey, white. Three bumps to the head, four coloured light explosions, five people who were all out of it. And it wasn't even midday.

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"Germany, where do you think America has gone?"

"I don't know, Italy." he sighed, flicking through his notes.

Alfred had been gone for almost half an hour, and while no one had spoken it, everyone was starting to wonder if he was alright. They were all presently having a quick interlude, giving them fifteen minutes to pause and go over what they'd discussed and were yet to discuss. Of course, only three countries ever seemed to use this time wisely, being Germany, Japan and Canada. The others tended to socialise.

"Maybe someone should go look for him..." Feliciano said. "Ve, I can go! You always say how fast I am at running, Germany!~"

"Ja, when you're running away from something..." Ludwig muttered under his breath, not wanting to offend the Italian. "If you want to go, go. You have ten minutes, but if you're late-"

"Germany, this isn't war! Don't make me run laps around the fields!" Italy whined.

"I was going to say that if you're late, I'm not coming after you, but OK then..."

"Ve~ I won't let you down!" Feliciano beamed. "Ciao!~"

Before Ludwig or anyone could say anything, he'd already practically skipped out of the room and was gone. Everyone continued with what they were doing, figuring that both Italy and America would be back shortly. Meanwhile, in the corridor, Feliciano was deciding where to look first. He remembered that France had mentioned something about going outside so... Maybe America was in the garden! It was understandable, since England's garden was probably one of the most beautiful, even if it wasn't always sunny. The roses and tulips always made up for it!

'Hey, maybe I can pick a rose for L- Well, I'd better ask England first...' he contemplated, as he walked towards the stairwell at the rear of the building. 'It'd be rude if I just took one, after all!'

Humming as he went, Feliciano began the descent. He swung himself around the banister on the first landing like a small child, and bounced down the steps in the same manner. However, he quickly stopped his merriments and came to halt several steps from the first floor. His humming had become silent. His hazel eyes met with the sunlight as his feet planted themselves on the carpeted floor, but he didn't bother to shield his eyes from the harsh light. He'd found Alfred.

"A-America?" Feliciano called out, cautiously approaching the American. He was lying flat on his front, but his glasses were thankfully intact. "Alfred, are you... Alive?"

A quiet groan informed Italy that he was indeed still breathing, and he sighed with relief as Alfred reluctantly rolled onto his back. Feliciano held out a hand to help America up, and he took it gratefully, though in the end he wasn't that much help. As Alfred got back onto his feet, Feliciano finally noticed things in the room that he didn't remember from when he passed through earlier that morning. Things that seemed familiar, yet entirely out of place.

I mean, generally, one doesn't tend to stumble across multiple people in a room who all look like they've fallen down stairs and are now unconscious. Against all odds, however, Feliciano found himself in that position. Alfred stood up straight, and stretched his arms out. His headache was gone, though now it was replaced by sore bruises. His glasses were askew on his face, his hair was completely disheveled, and he started to wonder why Feliciano had suddenly become so pale.

"Hey, is everything alright? I know I look like crap, but I'm fine." he said light-heartedly, smiling at the Italian and replacing his glasses properly. He didn't get a response, however. "Feli, what's wrong?"

"A-America..?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are there five, u-uh... W-Who are they...?" Feliciano managed to squeak out as he looked past Alfred.

Frowning, Alfred turned to see what Feliciano was talking about, and like the Italian, he could feel his blood run cold. His heart skipped a beat, his chest tightened, and he backed up ever so slightly, Italy deciding to remain close behind him. Across the room, people were waking up just as he had. What's more, he felt like he knew them, but he just couldn't figure out from where.

Straight ahead of the pair, one was carefully trying to pick themselves up off the fragments of a large china vase. Blonde hair resembling Alfred's was dusted off as they stood up, and they sighed at the mess. To the left of them, in the corner of the well-sized room, a figure - this time female - was frantically trying to wipe soil of herself. From the looks of things, she'd collided with a potted plant or two, as petals, leaves and dirt littered the area. On the opposite side of the room, someone who closely mirrored the first, except for their auburn hair, adorned with sunglasses, was supporting himself against the wall with one hand, looking as if he was ready to throw up. And, quiet as a mouse, the fourth figure was sat on one of the room's comfortable chairs, one leg folded over the other. He was fiddling with a small object that Alfred couldn't see, but when he glanced up at the American and Italian, he smiled and waved.

'That face...' Alfred thought, 'He has... My... What... How the heck-?'

"Ve, why do they look like you?!" Feliciano yelled out much louder than he intended. All eyes were on him. "D-Don't look at me like that!"

"I-I have no idea..." Alfred whispered back, his eyes flicking between the others in the room.

Feliciano was right. Two of them looked almost like exact copies of him, the third was the same but with different coloured eyes and hair, and the fourth was, judging from the current situation, Alfred but female. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He thought he must be dreaming. There's no way this was happening! He'd just hit his head too hard, and was still on the floor, dead to the world. Any minute now, he'd wake up and Feliciano would be there offering him pasta, and he'd be fine. Right?

"Italy? Where are you? Have you found Alfred?" a voice called from upstairs.

"Hey, is that... Arthur?" the first of the mystery four asked.

"Who the fuck is Arthur?" the red-haired American said. He, like the first, was clearly an American, which unsettled Alfred and Feliciano even more.

"England. Can't you hear the Britishness?" the girl sighed.

The sound of several sets of footsteps came from above, and within a few moments, three nations appeared on the staircase. Halting as Italy had done, England, Canada and France stared at Feliciano and Alfred, and then at the four others in the room. They were beyond confused. Who were these people? And why the heck were two of them literally like clones of Alfred? That was the last thing Arthur wanted or needed.

"Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Amerique, do you know these people?"

"Confederacy...?"

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A/N: I actually plan to write more for this story! I can't believe it! Can you believe it?! Maybe I can make this piece of trash worth reading! ^ಒ^