It was early the next morning, and Prussia was still at the hospital in the same spot he had been for the past week. He hadn't slept at all, instead, he had thought about how he would carry out his plan;he would go to the room that they kept the medicine in, break in, steal the most lethal kind (if overdosed) and just...do it. Prussia felt nothing at the thought of taking his own life, only the pain for his "comatose" brother. Gilbert had been contemplating more details of the suicide mission when he realized some thing that caused his heart beat to still; the man who he suspected has put his brother in the hospital was still alive. Prussia felt a burning hatred, stronger than anything he'd even felt before, fill him up from the inside. "I need someone else," he thought, " Not only with that bas**** Napoleon, but with my brother. I don't believe this is just a coma..."

Canada stood outside the red brick building that was surrounded by trees and neatly trimmed grass. How could something so innocent on the outside hold things as dark as it did on the inside? He had no idea why Prussia had called him here, they barely knew each other. If anything they were very distant acquaintances. He entered the building and began to walk to the wing where Gilbert was. As he walked, he inhaled the sickening smell that hospitals were filled with; a cross between throw up and bleach. The fluorescent lights made the white walls and floor look even more colorless, and made Canada feel as if all the happiness had been taken from him. He realized he had made it to the check in desk for the wing where the countries were. He gave his human name, Matthew William, to the overly-perky secretary and was surprised when he was told " The man named Gilbert told us you were coming. Room 426, right down that hallway, second door on the right." He was given a visitor's tag that had his name on it and proceeded down the hall. When he got to it, he tapped gently on the door and waited to be let in. When no one answered, he hesitantly turned the know and peeked his head in. Matthew was greeted with a saddening sight, one that put a lump in his throat; Holy Rome was lain out on a stark white bed sheet with another one tucked tightly around him. His usual garb of a black cape and hat was gone, now replaced by an ugly green-blue hospital gown. His blonde hair was strewn around his head, leeched of all it's usual beautiful color. His pale skin seemed translucent and his blue veins pushed up from underneath.