A/N: Hey, I'm back, I know I should be updating my other stories but this fic was the only one that I actually felt like writing for so...sorry. I do hope you like it, if you are reading I mean! This was quite a hard chapter for me to write, I'm not sure if I can write sad stories, but judging from your responses to some of my other stories, I CAN make you cry so HOORAY!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia OR the Bad Touch Trio (sadly...)

Song of the Chapter: Circle Foods by Gunnarolla (If any of you watch AmazingPhil then you might already know about it ;) )

Chapter 2

Pain, that was all England felt. A searing pain that burned him inside to out.

"What the..?" England's eyelids fluttered open and he looked around the hospital room he was in.

Around him, three figures watched intently. "Iggy!" England heard the voice before he felt the owner, strong arms wrapped around him and he gasped as his already broken bones were crushed under America's hug.

"Aiyah! Get off him aru!" England heard China yell and suddenly America's heavy weight was pulled off of him.

"Comrade, you are okay, da?" Russia smiled at him, England nodded quickly, careful not to provoke any type of angry response from the tall man.

"France..." the first word that came out of England's mouth. "Where's France?"

America and China stopped bickering with each other and sat back down in their previous seats.

"Dude...France is gone. When we arrived he wasn't there, we looked all around Paris but we couldn't find him. I'm sorry, he had been captured by Germany," America explained, he looked down at his feet, deciding his boots were actually really interesting.

"America and I tried to track down the soldiers who took him but by then it was too late aru," China added softly, "We're sorry aru," his voice cracked at the end.

England's eyes widened but he refused to cry, no, even though the frog was a weakling, he would survive. He had to survive, he was France after all.

"It's alright China," England muttered, the Asian had gotten more emotional lately, England guessed it had something to do with Japan.

China sniffed and wiped his tears away. Russia wrapped an arm around his shoulders, much to the Asian man's chagrin. But England found himself chuckling at the fact that China wasn't fighting that hard.

But then another thought crossed him.

"China, aren't you meant to be in you country? Helping out with the war?" England asked the Asian.

China stiffened slightly England could see Russia's arms tighten into the hug.

"Yes, but we are a team and a teams stick together aru,"

One hour later, the other nations left England alone in his hospital room.

"France, I hope you're okay," he muttered.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door, "England? Is that you?"

England recognized the voice. "Yes, you can come in...Spain,"

France could barely keep himself awake, how in the world could he walk a dozen miles all the way to Germany's secret base?

France felt tired and dizzy, every few seconds a wave of pain went up his body, causing him to stumble, grunt or fall. Every time he fell, a soldier growled at him and kicked his ribs harshly with a hard leather boot.

From under the hood, the soldiers didn't notice him stick his tongue out at them. He laughed silently to himself, he was a nation after all, he should have had his own guilty pleasures.

The hood on his head was stuffy and smelly, France couldn't even see through the rough fabric much less breathe!

France strained to hear what the soldiers were saying. "Are you sure that this is the right guy?" A gruff voice grumbled, "He's so weak for a nation!"

France cringed, weak was he? He couldn't stop the feral growl that came out of his mouth, it was common instinct to react badly when you and you're country had just been insulted.

But the soldiers took it badly, "Who do you think you are bastard?"

France yelled out in pain as the heel of a boot was slammed into his spine and he fell forward. With his hands behind his back, he could do nothing but let his face collide with rock hard earth. France heard a sickening crack and a pain that covered his whole face, a line of moisture now dripped down his chin, blood; his nose was broken.

France curled into a foetal position whilst the soldiers continued to kick and screech at him in German and English.

France squeezed his eyes shut, "Someone, please help me." he whimpered, but knowing in his heart that his call wouldn't be heard.

He remembered England's face, he had been so passionate, so determined to save Paris. France wished that maybe he could've done better. The last moments they had together were still in his head.

"NO! Don't touch him!" England's voice had been hoarse and rough.

France couldn't move, he felt as if someone was reaching into his chest and pulling out his heart. He felt fire burning his country.

Fire, it was something France hated with a (ironically) burning passion. It was beautiful yet deadly, a weapon so powerful that it could flatten forests, a weapon so deadly it could burn through flesh and bones.

France's memory was broken as a loud voice called out, "Stop!" France's head perked up, he knew that voice.

"Stop, state your position and reason for coming here to the awesome me! Kesesese!"

France was almost surprised that his friend wasn't speaking in German.

But the soldiers the soldiers answered in German, France couldn't understand what they were saying but he could understand what the silence as for.

What would he say? What would Prussia say when he saw him? Would he call France weak like his younger brother? France froze when he felt the hood being taken of his head, he blinked as a new light filled his eyes.

His gaze met Prussia's own and they both shared a long look. Prussia gasped at France's state, "Franny? What-"

"Ah, there you are France, I see you are weak as always." the two old friends turned to find Germany and his boss Hitler smiling down on them.

The abomination himself spoke, "Germany, what should we do with a weakling such as this?"

A/N: Here you go, a sort of cliffie, I'll be back with the next chapter!