A/N: Look! Another story written for a challenge issued by MidnightNimh for the Writing Junkie Forum. The chapters will soon be getting longer and I can see this plot quickly spiraling out of control. I hope that you all enjoy it!

Mathew sighed, leaning forward so his forhead was resting on the cool glass of the window. They were too high up to see anything but sky and an endless array of soft, white clouds but he still knew where they were. It was the soft tugging in his chest, which got tighter and tighet the further North they flew, that gave it away. Directly below them was Manitoba, Canada - and the runway that they were supposed to have landed on.

It wasn't too big of a surprise, having the pilot skip over his country. In fact, Mathew had almost grown to expect it. The pilot would miss Canada and go on with the rest of the flight, drop all of the other Nations off at the airport closest to their house, and then realize that there was still someone sitting in one of the seats. Apologies would ensue and then he would be taken home. It happened at almost every meeting.

Today, though, the thought that even Alfred's people were over-looking him hit harder than it normally did. Mathew told himself that it was just because he was tired. That, because this meeting had been so hectic and hard to get together, the stress was just making it all seem worse than it really was. That little voice in the back of his mind, the one that sounded so much like Francis it hurt, was wrong today just like it always was.

And the fact that they hadn't stopped in Canada, even though it was the first stop on the list, didn't mean that anything was getting worse.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Mathew gave another small sigh and closed his eyes. Maybe it just felt like this because Kumajirou hadn't come with him this time. The small bear had opted to stay home, firmly refusing to leave the couch and growling everytime Mathew went near him. It made the plane seem almost empty.

That, however, was far from the truth. The plane was loud and bustling with activity. Since it was supposed to be a smooth flight, most of them had gotten out of their assigned seats, moving about and yelling across the aisles.

Gilbert was making paper airplanes with the 'notes' that he had taken earlier. Arthur and Francis were up near the front of the plane shouting at each other over something or another; Mathew didn't bother to keep track of his parents fights anymore. Somewhere near the back of the plane, he could hear Feliciano and Romano argueing with each other over something.

Everyone was talking and the plane was no where near empty. But the seat beside Mathew was, as was his lap, and that made it seem like he was on the plane all alone.

"Hey! Alfred! I found the peanuts, dazi!" Yong Soo shouted from the very front of the plane, waving one hand in the air. Just as he did the plane gave a sharp jerk and he stumbled sideways, landing in a heap on Yao's lap.

Yao frowned down at his younger brother. "Get off of me, Im Yong Soo."

Yong Soo just grinned up at him. "Sorry, dazi! I wasn't expecting that."

Mathew gave the two Asian nations a small smile and shook his head. That was why he always stayed in his seat on the plane. Especially when they passed over his home-country during the winter months. Storms could pop up anywhere, at any time, and they wouldn't know about them until they'd flown right into the middle of it.

Several long moments passed, with Yong Soo refusing to get off of his older brother's lap, and the plane gave no more signs of hitting turbulence. Mathew turned back to gazing out the window, peering through the clouds in an attempt to see the ocean below them. They were over his land, flying instead over the portion of ocean that belonged to him.

And a slight headache blossoming behind his eyes told him that it might not be a good thing.

The plane gave another shudder. Yao shoved Yong Soo off of him and onto the floor. The door to the bathroom clicked shut, louder than it should have. Alfred stood up from his seat and made to start down the aisle.

A larger shudder than before and, this time, the emergency lights came on with it.

"PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS AND FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE." A fritzing noise signaled that the loud-speaker had just been turned off.

Mathew frowned and peered out the window again. The clouds were still white and, as far as he could see, the sun was still shining. There was no sign of a storm brewing - but the plane was shaking again, more violantly this time, and that pounding in the back of his head was still there.

A moment passed, then two, and suddenly the entire plane was shaking. The clasps of the baggage compartments came undone and luggage rained down on the passengers. Drinks spilled and computers hit the floor. The pain in Mathew's head spiked, feeling as though something was trying to claw its way out of his skull, and he vaguely noted that someone was screaming. He was too caught up in the pain to realize the sound was coming from his own mouth.

Nor did he realize that his shout sent the other Nations into a panic.

Yong Soo scrabbled to grab a hold of something as the plane rocked. His leg slammed into the metal anchoring of the seat in front of Yao; fabric and leg a like snagging on the piece of metal that jutted out. He let out a yelp and jerked his leg towards his body, one hand managing to grab one of his older brothers legs. The Chinese Nation was too busy hanging on to Ivan, who had wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him against his side, to offer Yong Soo any help.

In the back of the plane, Alfred's legs gave out beneath him and he went tumbling down to the floor. The plane jerked, and it was sputtering now too and making noises that no airborne plane should ever make, and the flailing American went rolling down the aisle. His side slammed into a seat, knocking the air out of him, and then someone had reached down and grabbed him by the jacket.

"Hol' st'll." Berwald grunted. There was no room to pull Alfred up off the floor - and no time, either, because at that exact moment the plane gave a deafening crack.

The crackling of electricity filled the air and wind drowned out all else. Alfred screamed and it was only Berwald's grip on him that kept the other nation from being sucked away from the back of the plane. Right into the split that had formed on the floor in the middle of the aisle.

And chaos was the only word that could describe the going-on's of Flight 313 at that moment.

The gap in the floor travelled the entire length of the plane. Sparks flew out of it and a siren went off twice before, along with every other flashing light in the plane, going off. Another shudder, accompanied with static-filled air, and the gap turned into a crack and that into a split that ran the entire length of the plane.

No one knew what was happening until they were plummeting through the air - two seperate halves going in two seperate directions.

If any Nation had been able to pay attention, they would have heard a deep, gravely laughter that mixed in with the wind. It howled and howled and laughed and laughed as the plane split and fell towards what should have been empty ocean. And when it hit land instead, in an explosion of fire and snow, metal and rock, the laughter quieted along with the wind. Both falling into an almost revered silence as they waited to see what Nations would pass their test, if any.