Why do I feel suddenly tired when I look at this fanfic...

Enjoy anyways xD

Chapter One

America:
Sunday.

Relocation.

It's a funny word.

When one hears something like that, one would expect masses of people running away from a huge storm, trying to find a safer place to stay. Or a disease strikes and the doctors are making everyone move from the infected area into another one- to relocate.

But for Alfred F. Jones, relocation didn't mean any of that- it meant getting kicked out of his own country.

To be honest, Alfred had always been a wild spirit. Someone who did things his way, got what he wished for whenever he wished for it. Even his bosses usually consented to whatever whimsical idea he suggested, as long as it harmed no one, as long as he was happy. He lived that way for many centuries and decades, free to go and choose life as he wanted, for his people and his country. All was well, so Alfred thought, because the reign he held upon America was fair and gave freedom to those who lived within its borders.

But of course it couldn't last forever. Just as suddenly as everything in his tumultuous life, Alfred found his country growing more restricted, his bosses more severe. It was not "freedom" anymore, but a twisted and warped version of the term. Now whenever he wanted to start anything, it was permission first, action later. Even if the situation was chaotic, even if immediate action was needed, he couldn't do anything- from forming a treaty with another country to interfering in their political and economical affairs- without consulting his boss and the higher-ups.

Because Alfred wasn't used to the idea of being so restricted, the first thing he did when he got his new boss was question the system. "Why can't I do this? Why can't I do that?" Alfred had asked, almost on the verge of shouting. It was frustrating to watch two countries fighting each other when all he had to do was send in his troops to end all the bicker, violence, and bloodshed. But no, the system wouldn't let him do that. He had to get consent from his boss and then wait another week or so while his boss and other important people negotiated the terms of his suggestion.

Total bull.

One that day, before he could even finish his argument, his boss had shut Alfred down instantly. "I am your boss," the man said sternly. "So be respectful."

Alfred then yelled back, "And I'm America, so you should listen to me!"

He was ever so surprised when his boss ordered the security guards to lead him out of the room so he could "cool down."

Everything continued to spiral down after that. Whenever he spoke up to his boss about an issue, the man would cast him a cold smile and promise to think about it, and never actually thinking about it. "My rule is supreme," his boss said once. "You are my country, and my leadership overrides yours." Alfred realized, when he numbly left the office, that he had no say anymore. This was his country, his body and mind, his soul- him. And he couldn't even engage in actions to help his country, to better himself?

It was infuriating.

Even if Alfred had been the biggest quitter of a country, he wouldn't have- couldn't have- stand for this. He had done so much already- gained his independence from Arthur, interfered in the World Wars, in the other, lesser battles that helped to shape his country or the countries around him. Sometimes, he thought that he even changed the world, just by being so rash and foolhardy when it came into the affairs of others.

So when Alfred, after a long day of being ignored by his boss and other countries' bosses, decided to take things into his own hands, he didn't think of the consequences. When he sent troops to Iraq, to stop the reign of terrorism that no one even bothered to notice, he didn't think his boss would be too mad. When he, a few weeks later, received the formal invitation to have dinner with his boss, he still didn't believe that anything serious would happen.

But when he sat down in that too-stiff chair in that too-stuffy restaurant, staring into that too-fake smile on his boss's face, it finally clicked into his mind. He had overstepped the line. He had done something without permission. And he was going to pay for it.

"America…" his boss drawled out. "How are you feeling today?"

What his boss actually meant to say was, "How are you going to feel today after I banish you from this country?"

"…Not so great," Alfred mumbled.

"Oh, that's too bad. Because, well, I've been having a splendid day!"

"I-is that so, sir?"

"Yes." His boss leaned forward in his seat, eyes glowing darkly. "And do you know why, America?"

Alfred gulped. "Why, sir?"

The man gave a hearty chuckle, a chuckle that sent chills crawling down Alfred's neck. "Because," he grinned, "I am going to relocate you! Isn't that wonderful, Alfred? Isn't it?"

And then the paper was slid across the table to him. With big words on the front:

RELOCATION OF ALFRED F. JONES. Removal from the United States of America.

Removal from the United States of America.

He was being relocated from his own country. From his own body and mind. From himself.

…

How fucking messed up was this?

So began the frantic begging of Alfred F. Jones.

The first person he tried to call was Arthur.

"Please let me stay over at your place!" Alfred pleaded when the Englishman picked up. "I got relocated and I really don't have anywhere to go!"

Arthur was one of his best friends. Even after the American Revolution, when Alfred broke away from him and from England, they had managed to overcome the brief rift and remained timeless buddies. Alfred was pretty sure that, with good enough reasons and excuses, Arthur would let him stay until his boss calmed down enough to allow him passage back to America.

But another surprise- Arthur refused almost instantly.

"I'm really sorry, Alfred," the Englishman said and his voice was rueful. "My boss just sent a fax telling me not to house you in England… You know how close he and your boss are, they probably planned this all out..."

Damn his boss.

Alfred sighed, told Arthur it was fine, and went onto his next begging session.

"Kiku, I really need a favor-"

"Forgive me, Alfred-san," Kiku interrupted before he could even finish the sentence. The voice that came through the phone was sad and guilty. "My boss said if you were to call, asking to stay in my country, to not allow you to. I do not understand why, but he is my boss…"

Another sigh. "It's okay, Kiku. Sorry for bothering you."

Next was Francis.

"Mon dieu, I cannot!" the Frenchman immediately exclaimed. His loud voice was harsh static in Alfred's ears and the American winced. "Forgive me, my petit mignon, but my boss just called me-"

"…Don't worry about it, Francis."

It went on like that for several hours and several dozen phone calls later. Every country Alfred could possibly think of that was kinda/sorta on good terms with him, he called- and was rejected.

All their reasons had to do with one sentence:

"My boss told me not to."

There are some things that Alfred hated about his country (and himself?). One of those things included that almost everyone knew who he was. Which was fine and all, but sometimes the publicity got really annoying if he wanted to be unnoticed for the day. But this was also bad because if all the countries knew him, then all the countries knew his boss. So all the countries' bosses knew him and his boss. And since he was a superpower country, then all the other countries and their bosses had respect for him and his boss. Which would result in them listening to his boss when his boss told them something.

Hence the reason why he hated his country (and himself?) sometimes.

But he especially hated his boss. His crazy and evil boss. His devil-reincarnate boss. His boss who had only given him two days and one world conference meeting to find a place to stay before he got booted out of the United States of America.

How in the world was he going to find someone who hadn't been influenced by his boss yet? How was he going to convince said person to let him stay over in their country until his boss calmed down?

"Dammit," Alfred shut his phone off and leaned back on the sofa. "What am I going to do..?"

~.

The next day…

World Conference:
Monday.

Katyusha entered the main lobby of the Conference Building with a nervous heart. Behind her trailed Ivan, who was staring at the ground in thought. "Come, Vanya," she smiled. "We have to get checked in."

Usually she didn't like coming to the meetings, especially since most of them were too far away for her convenience. This time though, she felt that Ivan needed her to be there. And after all that happened last night, she wanted to be there for him.

"Katyusha… must we really?"

She glanced back at her brother, pursing her lips. "Would you rather stay home with Natalia?"

Ivan's eyes grew wide with fear. "N-nyet."

Katyusha smiled and linked arms with him. "Then we must do this." She stepped up to the reception desk, still holding onto Ivan, and ordered two rooms on the farthest end of the hallway.

"Are you quite sure you want those rooms?" the girl at the desk asked her. "There are still vacancies for rooms closer to the front of the building."

"No, thank you." Katyusha knew it wouldn't do if Ivan had one of his post-Sunday attacks and decided to hurt people around him. Better to be secluded and closer to her brother when he went on his rampage.

"Okay. Here are your room keys and please sign here."

Katyusha signed and nudged Ivan to do the same. The Russian narrowed his eyes at the sheet of paper, and with a sigh, signed his name underneath hers.

"I did not want to come here today," he muttered as they left the desk.

"We do not all get what we want, Vanya," his sister teased.

Ivan cast her a half-glance and smiled. "Thank you, sestra," he said suddenly, and wrapped her in a bear hug. "For coming here with me. And for enduring… what you did yesterday… Thank you for everything."

Katyusha returned his hug tightly and murmured against his chest. "I did it because I had to. You are my little brother, and your agony pains me. You know that, don't you?"

His eyes shifted away from hers. "Da."

She let go of him when they reached a large oak door labeled 'Meeting room' and paused outside. Ivan gave her a questioning look. "Not coming in?"

Katyusha shook her head. "I have to call Natalia… she's really worried about you and wanted to hear feedback on your condition."

"…I see."

"Oh, Ivan," Katyusha rolled her eyes. "I'm always so stumped as to why you're afraid of her. You know she means well. The only reason she is so intent on 'marrying' you is because she cares about you."

"Sometimes she displays her affection very… physically…"

"Oh, you are hopeless." Katyusha laughed and eventually, Ivan relented to a small smile. "Don't wait on me," she called as he entered the room, with one wave of his hand to acknowledge her words.

Once he was gone, Katyusha instantly dropped her facade. Laughter and smiles gone now, the Ukrainian began a determined and fierce walk back the hallway they came from. She was intent on only one thing- and that was to find a person- anyone- willing to help her Ivan.

Last night, after cleaning up Ivan's mess and making sure he and Natalia were asleep, Katyusha had sat down in the kitchen and thought.

Every week, every time the attacks occurred, it was getting harder and harder to control her brother. The monster in him only continued to grow stronger, until his madness and desire ended up in…in.. the scene she saw earlier. The first time, the very first Sunday it happened, Katyusha witnessed firsthand how horribly Ivan was suffering. When he damaged his own body, when he tore at himself with the intent of a creature gone awry. When he smiled and laughed as he ravaged himself. Masochism.

Both she and Natalia- who usually followed Ivan everywhere- were now too scared to approach him. The next Sunday, however, when the same madness occurred, they called a doctor in to help. A mistake. The doctor, and Katyusha realized what had happened too late, went missing only minutes after he was left alone with Ivan. More blood that day, and Ivan developed another method of pleasure- sadism. When Katyusha went up to him and demanded where the body was, Ivan didn't say anything but, "I promise to you, my dear sestra, that I did not kill him." She had believed him, without a single doubt.

Katyusha pressed a hand against her mouth, not wanting to cry in the middle of the hallway. The people she walked passed were all blurs. "I believed him," she whispered.

He had not lied to her, Katyusha knew. He had never killed anyone. After the second Sunday of the attack, the two sisters had decided to alternate between the choices. It was either masochism and sadism. Would they rather he harm himself, or harm other people? Every other Sunday, not knowing what else to do, Katyusha locked Ivan all alone in the basement and allowed him to slaughter his body. The other times, she would lure a person into the house and let Ivan use that person until he was finished, and then her brother would assure her after the day was over, "I let him go, do not worry." But how could she not? Katyusha trusted Ivan with all her heart and even now, even after what she saw last night, she still trust her sweet and gentle little brother.

But that didn't mean she couldn't stop worrying. That didn't change the fact that he killed someone yesterday, for the first time ever. He killed someone.

He needed to be stopped.

Ivan needed help.

"…So I just… ugh.. I don't know what to do, Mattie…"

Katyusha was brought back to the present by the sound of voices. She instantly froze and pressed herself against the wall. People would wonder why Ukraine was suddenly here, at a meeting where only the major countries came to, and it was best not to draw any attention to her or Ivan.

"I don't know who'll give me a place to stay… Are you sure you can't let me, Mattie?"

She stood still, curious despite herself. This voice… so familiar… but who?

"I'm really sorry, Alfred," a second voice said dejectedly. "Your boss is basically my boss's boss… so yeah…"

Ah, that's who it was. America!

Katyusha raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. America was looking for a place to stay?

The American let out a long, tired sigh. "I've been asking around…and no one's willing to disobey their bosses for my sake! I mean, I can live like a fugitive and hide around or whatever, as long as I have somewhere to sleep and eat and not be a homeless hobo in, you know?"

"…I'm sorry, Alfred."

Katyusha was about to stop eavesdropping and head the opposite way when America said something that made her stop in her tracks.

"Ugh, I would do anything for anyone who'd let me stay in their house for awhile. I mean it, too… C'mon, Mattie, I'm begging you, as your brother, please let me."

America needed a place to stay… he would do anything for that person…

America had a really large hero complex, didn't he? If someone was in trouble, if someone needed help, wouldn't America try his best to help that person?

No. Katyusha shook her head angrily. Even if this had been her original plan- to find someone to help her brother- when it actually came down to asking, she couldn't bring herself to involve another innocent person in the horror she, Natalia, and Ivan endured every Sunday. Besides, Katyusha smiled weakly, she liked America. He had once welcomed her to his home without any pretense, had helped her adapt when she was in a land full of foreign people.

She bit her lip. But Ivan…

"Alfred, you're making this really hard for me."

"Mattie, you can make this simpler for me, by saying yes."

"Uhm, if I may suggest something?" Without meaning to, without realizing it, Katyusha stepped out from the shadows and around the corner. She met the stunned stares of America and Canada with a hesitant smile.

"Uh, hi… Ukraine!" Alfred said cheerfully.

"Hello, Ukraine." A less enthusiastic but equally polite response from his brother.

Katyusha nodded and, staring down at her dress, said, "America, I heard that you are looking for a place to stay?"

Alfred grimaced. "Yeah, unfortunately. My boss got a sudden epiphany that I'd be better off away from my country, and booted me out."

"Oh… well, in that case, if you need a place to stay, you are welcomed at mine…"

Both pairs of blue eyes grew wide- one in immense surprise and elation, the other in immense relief.

"Really?" Alfred gasped out. "Do you mean it? I can really stay?"

"Of course," Katyusha smiled. "But I was wondering if you would do me a favor also-"

Before she could finish, the American had tackle-hugged her, his arms squeezing the air out her lungs. "THANK YOU SO MUCH!" He grinned and released Katyusha, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously. "What favor do you need? I'll do anything!"

"Uh…well…" Katyusha blinked then gave Matt a look. The Canadian got the message instantly, and with an apologetic smile at the two of them, quickly left the hallway. "I am sorry," she said softly, "but I cannot discuss this too much in the open." She grabbed Alfred's arm and shoved him back in the shadows, casting the hall a cursory survey.

Alfred laughed, all his worries momentarily gone. "What is this, some kind of secret FBI/KGB thing?"

But the Ukrainian's eyes were solemn. "It may be worse than anything you can ever imagine."

"Okay, shoot."

"…My brother needs your help."

"Your brother?"

"Russia."

Instantly, as she knew he would, America's expression changed. Unexpectedly, though, it was just a brief flash of recognition and then nothing else. Maybe I was right in choosing him, Katyusha thought and smiled, he doesn't seem to be terrified of my brother like everyone else is.

"It is difficult to explain… but have you ever heard of Bloody Sunday?"

"Umm… it had something to do with one of Russia's bosses, right? Nicholas something?"

Katyusha nodded. "Yes. Bloody Sunday was a massacre in Russia. People were slaughtered ruthlessly; it was the beginning of a very violent revolution."

"Okay," Alfred was confused. "But what does it have to do with anything?"

"Well, you see… I believe the event has traumatized him. Ever since that day, something has changed within Ivan, something that affects his ability to think rationally… Every Sunday, he goes into this state. He harms himself, and others around him, except for the ones he trusts. Lately, he has become even more unstable, and I and my sister Natalia, do not know what to do with him…" Katyusha couldn't control the tears that suddenly fell from her eyes. "I-I am sorry, but I was hoping you could help him, somehow."

And as she finished talking, the revelation hit her:

What could America do? Could he actually do anything for Ivan?

She knew that America had cured many countries before, countries in war and needing help, and that was why she considered asking him in the first place. But this… this was something totally different. This was something that seemed beyond anyone's control.

Katyusha opened her mouth to cancel her deal when America, who had previously been silent, gave a shout of determination. "Okay," he grinned and threw her a thumbs up. "I'll do it! Just because you asked so nicely, Ukraine."

She stared at him in surprise, at the carefree tone in his voice. "A-america… I know I am the one who asked you first, but I must warn you how serious this situation is-"

"Don't worry. I am a hero, after all!" Alfred grinned and that was when Katyusha saw the actual solemnity in his eyes. He had seen her tears, had heard her distress and worry about Ivan, and he would take this 'mission' seriously. "Trust me," the American tilted his head to side, cheerfully. "I'll try my best, okay?"

What else could she do but nod?

"Oh shoot!" America glanced at his watch, blue eyes wide with panic. "I really gotta go! Iggy'll be pissed if I'm late for the conference. He's hosting again, as usual." Alfred rolled his eyes and Katyusha couldn't help but giggle. "I'll see you later, Ukraine! Tell me when I have to start packing up my stuff or something."

She watched as he started a sprint backwards, waving happily at her, then tripped over a lump on the rug, straightened up and continued running as though nothing had happened. When America was gone, Katyusha turned away from the hall and tried to control the mixture of amusement and despair in her chest.

She was involving someone else again. Someone who was a klutz, someone who was passionate in what he believed in, someone who might not even make things better…

A very unlikely hero, Katyusha smiled.

But maybe, just maybe, he was the hero Ivan needed.

Translations:

Mon dieu - my God

A/N: I wonder if anyone can guess the time period for the story?
And I think I went a bit OOC for Alfred when I let him use the word 'epiphany' (big word..Alfred-brain-damage?n_n)... forgive meh C:

Think ima take a semi-long/meh break from this...