Matthew had jumped into the canal.

The words seemed so strange, as his attempted jump seemed so long ago now.

America relayed the story in full, incredible detail of how he had found Matthew's phone a while after Matthew had left the dinner. He had gone to the hotel first, yet when there was no sign of him being there, he retraced the steps back to the restaurant. By the middle of the following day, he realized that he wouldn't be able to find the owner of the phone, whose presence in his life he was starting to feel more and more with each hour he was absent, by himself.

Soon after this realization, he had called both England and France to assist the search. With England, France, and America all absent from the meeting, there was little progress made, and once word spread that they were looking for a missing nation, Italy insisted he help (as it was his home after all). This set off a domino effect with Germany having to follow Italy out of habit, pulling along Prussia, Spain, and Austria, as well as Japan, China, Hong Kong, Sealand, all of Great Britain, Finland, Sweden, the rest of the Nordic nations, and many others. Any who weren't pulled along by association soon got lonely at the empty meeting by themselves and joined anyway.

If any of them were unfamiliar with Matthew at the start of the search, they were as familiar as best friends by the end of it, and could pick him out in a crowd immediately. That is, if they could find him in a crowd. They seemed to search everywhere. Coffee shops, bakeries, museums, parks, restaurants, malls, markets, and grocery stores. At one point, they even went to a strip club on the off chance he might be there (he wasn't, though Prussia and Spain, who had checked, ended up staying in far too long and had to be pulled out by Hungary). They had Turkey and Greece at the hotel the whole time in case he showed up (Greece slept and Turkey supervised). They searched the city. They searched the cities around the city. Yet no one found him for days.

No one found him until finally, England, who had spent another night searching the shops, certain someone had to have seen him walk through (a blonde Canadian with a single, long curl in the middle of his head wasn't the most common thing you saw in Italy), leaned against the railing overlooking the canal and became fixated on a shape just under the murky surface.

It would be easy to miss had he not been staring, but as a boat passed by, the water was disturbed and the face of what was clearly a body was turned in his direction and his breathing seemed to stop.

Nearly flinging himself over the railing, he plunged into the deep canal, alerting some nearby officer who, upon seeing just what England was pulling out of the water, changed his mission from getting the man out of there, to calling for aid.

The thing about nations is that they can be fixed, despite experiences that would normally kill them. A heart can be made to start again. Lungs can be made to work. Limbs can be sewed back on and wounds fixed. Scars, as expected, will appear, and limbs will not grow back. However, if the body is in the shape to continue working, it will. No matter if the heart has stopped for many days, if it is given enough of a jolt it can pump again.

That isn't to say healing and fixing a nation up is the easiest, or most painless of processes. A severed head, for example, has been known to be among the most terrifying, painful, and time-consuming fixes known to the nations. Their endlessly working bodies have been known to be able to repair that sort of damage if given time, but the body puts priority over getting the vital organs working, rather than making the process less painful. And even then, the time to fix something so damaging can range from several months to a few years, more often the ladder.

When they found Matthew, the first thing that the humans nearby noticed was his lack of breathing. Surely he must be dead, they thought, but the first thing that England noticed was the injury to his head. The quite obvious fracture that he had gotten somewhere between the railing and the water, or perhaps after the fact. Breathing was nothing, breathing could be started again. However, if his brain was in any way damaged, some things could be nearly permanent, if not so. Brains were complex and precise. If anything was amiss during the healing process, it could leave to a permanent, crippling issue for the boy. England, even now, could feel some joints that had chosen to heal just slightly wrong and wouldn't bend a certain way. If that happened with a damaged brain, even in the slightest, Matthew could easily be left permanently handicapped, even having to live under the care of another nation for the rest of their existence.

However, he pushed these things from his mind as he followed the body to the hospital, numb and unable to register quite what was happening anymore. He recalled calling America and France, who spread the word to the others that were continuing to search. He recalled official conversations with doctors and nurses that informed them of Matthew's state and how important it was that this information be kept secret. He recalled watching Matthew being x-rayed and scanned. But he recalled little else.

According to America, Matthew had taken quite some time with the healing process. After a few weeks, they were able to get him breathing and alive again, but the damage to the brain was difficult to judge without his being conscious. There was something happening, certainly, but they could understand little else than that. After being transferred to a Canadian hospital, he had scared nurses and doctors with frequent spasms and jumps in heart-rate. At least eight times, his heart had stopped altogether and it had taken hours to get it to start again. Even more often than that, he had sat there with his eyes opened, staring out the window or even at one of the frequent guests, who promptly called a doctor because "He's awake! He's finally awake!", yet found themselves disappointed when he closed his eyes again and resumed his coma-like sleep. France even told Matthew he had looked right at him and mumbled something about a "maple float", which was one of many stories he had heard from his frequent visitors, which amounted to America and Russia (who had at first admitted to keeping an eye on America, then denied such claims when asked later), England, France, and a handful of others.

America and Russia had stories of Matthew catching a cold and them staying close by to help. Matthew mentioned briefly about an image of them sharing Russia's scarf, yet that image was immediately and harshly denied by the pair of red-faced rivals.

France had stories of Matthew mumbling in his sleep, apparently having some conversation with him, yet the words were either nonsense, or too mumbled to make out.

England seemed to get the most of Matthew's mobile side. He even had a story of Matthew stumbling out of bed and smacking his head on the floor, which had scared him to no end as he felt certain that any non-permanent damage was now a fixation for the poor nation.

Yes, it appeared Matthew spent many restless days on healing. England even once joked after the events that if America moved half as much as Matthew did, America would have lost at least fifty pounds. And these days went on for months and months until a little less than three years had passed by with no contact until a March day when Matthew finally spoke to America, who was laying his head at the foot of his bed, and seemed awake.

Matthew listened to all of these stories without comment or question. Their most favorite sentence always seemed to be "Are you okay?", which allowed for Matthews most favorite response to be "Yes, I'm fine."

It was undeniable the concern the nations felt, namely his three brothers. He was distant and dreamy, always complaining of "being sleepy" when they stayed for too long. He was unwilling to hold his end of the conversation, no matter how many questions they asked him, and only ever seemed half there.

To be honest, a part of him felt guilty for all the concern his actions were bringing, but his mind was constantly elsewhere. Elsewhere in another time and another place where he met, not just himself, but the type of person he could become should he wish to.

His mind tossed the image in his mind again and again, yet could never come to a correct conclusion on where the images came from. Was it truly a place he had visited? Or was it an illusion made by his mind. No matter how many times he felt his back to be sure that there were no scars, the feeling of lashes striking his bare skin was all too real. No matter how often he saw his friends and family, alive and healthy and simply happy he was awake, he couldn't push the image of their broken and disheveled appearances away. Was his mind truly capable of creating such vivid images?

All through physical therapy, where he exercised his legs and arms into working order once more, he was thinking of the version he created during the present. The one that could make all these future visions possible. All through the tests that made sure he was truly healed with no drawbacks, his mind stayed on the things he had either done, or saw himself do, whether it be dream or not.

And as he was driven home by England, his mind went to the image of falling to his death, and of standing above the people who had wronged him.

Matthew was so distracted, that he hardly noticed until, England took his hand, that he was missing the key hole on the front door completely, and with the wrong key no less.

"Matthew?" England asked, leaning down to try and catch his eye.

"Yes, I'm fine," Matthew said before England could even ask, his eyes staying trained far away, until England placed his hand on his cheek and turned his face towards him.

"No, I was just going to say that I love you. I love you very much, and nothing you can ever do on this planet will change that." Matthew gave a slightly bitter smile.

"I could think of a few things," He responded, mind going back to those images he had seen again.

"No," England shook his head, "you can't. Because I've seen friends do terrible things. Things they've done to me, to themselves, to the ones they love. I've seen friends destroy everything in their world in order to become powerful. Yet I still call them friends." Matthew looked away again, not giving a response.

"Our existence is confusing," England said, eyes going to the ground in thought. "Who we are and what we do is strange. Our dreams and ambitions aren't as small as that of humans and if we make mistakes, many people get hurt. Yet we're here, and that's a fact we have to deal with. No matter how terrible it feels to get up in the morning, or how desperately you want to grab a gun and end it all. We're so bloody human, but we're also not. It's what handicaps us and what keeps us alive. So the only thing we can do is revel in the fact that we're not alone, and I will make it my personal mission to assure you'll never feel as though you are again."

Matthew turned his eyes to England, really looking at him for the first time in months. He searched his face for a lie he wouldn't find, then gave a small, genuine smile, which England returned.

"You know," England said, "I once had a dream while I was healing after being decapitated. I dreamt I took over the world."

Matthew's eyes widened slightly. "Really?" He asked softly.

"Yes. It was all so terrible. Everyone I loved was suffering. Everyone that wronged me…. I felt terrible, but happy as well." He paused.

"What did you do?" Matthew urged, wanting to hear more. "In the dream, I mean…" England gave a knowing grin and leaned forwards, as though saying a secret.

"I jumped off a balcony," he said, winking at Matthew's stunned face. "I couldn't let myself become something so terrible. I'd rather die."

"D… did you ever wonder if it wasn't just a dream?" Matthew dared to ask. Unsurprisingly, England didn't seem shocked.

"Yes, I did," he said. "Even now, I'm not always sure…. But… If it isn't a dream, then perhaps it's just a possibility. What could be should I want to make it so. I could be powerful and wonderful and invincible and-"

"Empty," Matthew finished, eyes locked on England's, who nodded in response.

"It's still possible," he said. "For any of us, really. We have more power than we know. Than we want to know. We could do it. But we haven't."

"And I hope we never will," Matthew nodded. England smiled and nodded, before leaning in a second time to whisper to him.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you this, but there's a surprise party waiting for you," he said. "I think we should go inside before they think something happened."

Matthew gave the first grin he had since waking up again. Unlocking the door, he let England in first, before pausing at the threshold. In his mind, he could see a Canada that was strong and powerful. One that everyone knew, one that everyone feared. He saw a Canada that could be, and then he saw it dissolve.

With a smile, and a newfound strength, he stepped inside to join his family.