Arthur limped back to the boys dorm as hastily as he could manage, thanking his lucky stars that he'd managed to avoid being implicated with the fight despite being on of the few actually fighting. A beating of the head teacher was the last thing he wanted to deal with.
He collapsed on a bed nearest to the door, not having the motivation to even go across the room to his own. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the aches and pains caused by his fight with Ivan. It felt like his back had been broken and ran over with a truck, and his head was still throbbing dully. Why had he gone so far to help that idiotic american again? -that's something he'd been wondering since the fight had finished. The Brit only worked for himself, right? Other people were just hassle to him, right?- then why? Why did he even bother with Alfred?! Could it be he actually.. Cared about him? The thought made Arthur uneasy- scared even. Memories of the other people he'd cared about in the past flashed through the punk's mind. It had never ended well.
Arthur wondered what was happening to the American teen as of now, trapped in the isolation room, probably or still being beaten mercilessly by the Head. The punk winced at the thought- Alfred had enough injures without being caned. The Brit had to wonder.. Would taller blonde be let of with just a beating.. Ivan looked pretty badly injured- brain damaged he could even be.. Dead..
No! Arthur didn't even want to think it! He didn't want to have to label Alfred a murderer! He didn't even want to associate the words 'Alfred' and 'Murderer'. No, Ivan had to be okay.

Arthur finally recognized that uneasy feeling squirming inside him- it was guilt. Guilt that he couldn't stop Alfred from being hurt, guilt he'd gotten him involved in the war against the bad touch trio, guilt for being part of the incident with Ivan.

"Oh! A beaten up shirt less English man is lying on my bed! Whatever shall I do?" A dramatic French-accented voice called out, Arthur groaned as he felt another person sit on the bed, he looked up only to have his fears confirmed- it was Francis.
"Piss of, frog." The Punk grumbled, expecting Francis just to carry on annoying him anyway in his usual dramatic, jokey way.
"That's just like you isn't it." The older boy said, his voice suddenly devoid of humor. "You just turn up one day and take what's mine."
"I don't know what your talking about." Arthur growled, unnerved by Francis' sudden change in demur. The Punk would never admit but Francis could be down-right terrifying at times.
"I think we both know exactly what I'm talking about. Need me to jog your memory" The French boy hissed, forcibly turning Arthur around by the shoulders, forcing the Green-eyed boy to look at him. "- 1982, I come home from boarding school aged ten, to Britain in our family holiday house. My mother has taken some scruffy little English boy under her wing, she treats him with love, respect- but do you know what he does-?"
Arthur just glared at him, unsure of what to say- did the world just want to make him feel guilty today? Then in an instant Francis was back to his usual self, he let go off Arthur's shoulders and sat on the side of the bed.
"So- mon cher, how was the fight?" Francis said all of a sudden, smiling his normal flirtatious smile "Is Alfred going to be buried or cremated?"
"Ha ha very funny." The Brit said, rolling his eyes. He was happy pretend Francis' outburst a few seconds earlier hadn't happened. "-But it looks like Ivan might be the one needing a coffin."
"-that last part wasn't sarcasm, was it?" Francis said, raising a thin eyebrow.
Arthur shook his head
. "The yank went an' dropped on of those huge slabs of concrete on the Russians head, didn't he?"
Francis gasped "Sacre bleu!"
The punk nodded knowingly, enjoying telling the dramatic story despite himself. "-yeah, there was blood everywhere,"
The older blonde gasped "-oh, how terrible." He said. "-I don't know why you look so pleased about it- you English are tres savage. I thought you'd be worried about Alfred, at least."
Arthur rolled his eyes. He was worried about the damn american but he wouldn't admit to it. "-He got beaten pretty badly but it's nothing life-threatening" The punk said. "-I said he won the fight, didn't I? So what's to be worried about? As if I care about him anyway!"
"You cared about him enough to jump in the middle of the fight to help him- don't deny it, I can tell by your bruises." Francis said, slyly. He grinned to himself when he saw the Brit stiffen at his words. "- Besides, Alfred's biggest worry now is what the headmaster will do to him, oui? -I wonder if he'll be beaten, or locked away in the cells for weeks, c'est terriblle!"
Arthur gritted his teeth, but said nothing so Francis continued.
"And do you really think if our little american has killed Ivan he can carry on at this school? He'll be locked away somewhere even more terrifant than this."

"- I was exaggerating! No way Jones is a killer!.. Ivan just needs a doctor!"

"Arthur, your naivety is surprising! Do you really think that monstre of a headmaster will ever spend money on a doctor?"

Arthur sighed in defeat. He knew Francis was right. A shiver went down his spine as he finally acknowledged the depth of the situation. Even by this school's standards it was drastic.. There hadn't been a death in the school for over a year and that was suicide. That was Kyle. The Australian boy was always so happy and defiant ignoring the rules and smiling cheekily as he caused mayhem. Arthur was just beginning to get friendly with him, when in the space of a month, Kyle started acting withdrawn and his smile disappeared. The Punk had been at the school two months when the Australian threw himself of the top of the school. Nobody knew exactly why he did it, some blamed the bullies, or the headmaster- the bastard did spend a lot of time punishing him.
Arthur shook his head, clearing away those bad memories- 'why am I thinking such morbid stuff! Ivan isn't dead yet is he!? So Alfred's not a murderer!' The Brit closed his eyes in thought ..what could he do to keep it that way? He thought back to his earlier words 'Ivan just needs a doctor'. Maybe the head wouldn't call for medical help, but he could.
A plan already forming in his mind, Arthur jumped of the bed, ignoring the pain in his muscles, he grabbed himself a shirt and strode out the door.
"Oi- rosbif! Were are you going?" Francis called out tailing along behind him. "You just went silent and now your suddenly leaving- could it be you have a plan?"
"Shut up frog! And I told you years ago not to call me that!"
"Call you what, rosbiff!"
"Your impossible! Stop following me!"
"Non!"


Antonio pursed his lips, pacing the empty corridor "Ay caramba! What am I suppose to do?" He said out loud. The thought of hid friends- particularly Lovino, being punished for the fight just made his blood boil! And the fact he couldn't do anything about made him feel useless, agitated and frustrated. He had to get back at the establishment, but how!?
"I have no idea what to do!" He shouted aloud, startling the little Canadian boy walking past. Martin, or Malcolm, what ever his name was hurried past him with his head down, a glass of something in his hands.
The Spaniard didn't seem to notice the discomfort he's caused him, and just carried on pacing.
"Yes Mr Finch, we're sorry but we will have to cancel your inspection of the school today- " The brunette glanced down one of the corridors to see the school secretary on the phone, he listened in eagerly.
"-yes, I know you've come all this way and your right in the area, yes I know it takes hours to get here." The secretary continued, sounding agitated. "But the headmaster and many of the boys have fallen ill with the flu- the risk you'll catch it is too great!"
For a moment the dense Spaniard thought there actually was a flu epidemic- why hadn't he heard about it!? Then it clicked; That must just be an excuse to stop the school inspector coming over and seeing half the boys locked in cages, and a Russian boy with a severe head trauma.
Antonio listened as the Secretary said his final apologies and set down the phone, he walked the sound of his footsteps getting fainter and fainter.
When the coast was clear, the Brunette grabbed the phone and dialed '14713'- return the last call. He grinned menacingly. Time to get some revenge on this god damn school~


Ivan wasn't sure if he was awake for asleep, dead or alive. What he did know was that his body felt numb, all besides his head which throbbed horribly with pain.
What was the last thing he remembered- He was fighting with Alfred, and he beat him up pretty good, he would of left it at that but then that Arthur kid had jumped in to defend the American. Which was strange because the Brit only seemed to work for himself, he was indifferent to other's suffering. Anyway, the last thing the Russian remembered was pinning Arthur down to the floor, and punching him in the face. Then what? A sharp pain, a sudden blow from behind and everything went black. Had Alfred hit him?.. No the American wasn't that strong.. So what had happened?
Ivan had another memory, it felt so vague it could of been a dream. It was a memory of Alfred carrying him inside, despite the headmaster threatening him. Ivan concluded it must of been a dream, because why would Alfred risk more trouble just to help him? Ivan tried to sit up, but his body didn't move an inch, the action just sent waves of pain shooting down his spine. He groaned internally.
"Vell I said to the American I'd get him medical attention, but all ve have in the infirmary is pain killers and bandages." A voice spoke- Ivan recognized the speaker as Ludwig.
"Mamamia! That fight sounds totally scary! I would of just surrendered!" That was Felinciano.
"Vell, Jones certainly didn't surrender he carried Braginski all ze way inside." The blonde German said.
Ivan would of gasped if he had the energy to- so that wasn't just a dream? He couldn't fathom any possible reason why the American would do that? Why would someone he hurt help him? The Russian thought of all the people who had hurt him over the years. Would he go out his way to help them? Not a chance.
" Hey Ludwig do you think.. That Ivan will be okay?" The Italian asked, hopefully.
"With in an injury like that.." The German trailed of. Ivan wanted to shout at him 'with an Injury like that what!? Will I be okay or not answer the goddamn question!? But in truth the silence provided Ivan with more of an answer than words ever could. A cold dread washed over him as he realized he was, in fact, not okay.

Arthur finished buttoning up his shirt, just as he and Francis approached the phone, he didn't know why the older was tagging along, anyway. They arrived just after Antonio had left.
"Well, if you insist on following me, frog at least keep a look out while I call the local doctors." The Brit said, sounding irritable.
Francis leaned on the wall an amused smile on his face. "You must really care about him, mustn't you?"
The punk blushed slightly, but ignored the Frenchman, instead focusing on the phone book to find the number.
"-Are you and him already an item, oui? Is he a good kisser?" Francis asked, purposefully trying to wind Arthur up. It was working too.
"Get your mind out the gutter, Frog" Arthur said. "You can care about someone without having a romantic interest in them."
The older of the two chuckled "oui, but there is so much sexual tension between the two of you~"
"Your such a creep!" The punk said, glaring at Francis, his green eyes almost seemed acidic. "Besides, Alfred probably doesn't even.. Swing that way."
"You really are stupide, rosbif. The American is into men. I always see him checking the other boys out when their getting changed. Especially you." Francis said, widening his wolf-like grin.
"Well- who says I even swing that way!?" Arthur spat, he was blushing madly, why did Francis decide to be extra annoying today? Was this some sort of revenge for dying his hair green?.. Probably.
"You can't fool me, 'silly little boy'- I've seen you drunk." The blue-eyed boy tittered. "Want me to list all the boys in this school you've shared le french kiss with? And you've only been here a year."
Arthur somehow managed to turn an even darker shade of red.
"S-shut up frog, go on look out!" Arthur spluttered, as he quickly punched the number for the local clinic into the phone. Francis grinned to himself 'he can be strangely cute, sometimes. Sometimes.'


Matthew stood in the doorway to the boy's dorm, frozen. He'd only left for a few minutes to get a glass of water for Francis, but now he was back and Francis was gone. Did he do it on purpose? Was it some sort of cruel joke to make the Canadian look like a fool?
No, that wasn't Francis' style, it was more likely the French man had just left and forgotten about him.
'Is my existence really so meaningless?'
He lay down on Francis' bed. "I thought he would be the one who wouldn't forget." Matthew whispered to himself, his gentle voice filled with betrayal. He suddenly felt a wave of self-loathing sweep over himself. If he was better, more memorable, more likable Francis wouldn't of forgotten about him, he wouldn't have depression and then he wouldn't even be in this shit hole of a school. But how could he change? The prospect seemed so impossible to Matthew it was terrifying.
'He'll probably be back real soon' The Canadian thought over and over again, trying to convince himself Francis hadn't forgotten.


Arthur suddenly felt a wave of nerves ripple through him as he the number for the local medical centre. He really, really didn't want to get caught, not just for his sake, but for Alfred's.

He Listened to the Dial tone and finally, somebody picked up.
"Hello, west way medical Centre how may we help you?" A bored-sounding voice chimed out. The Brit was willing to bet working in a Clinic in an area as isolated at this would be dull.
"We need Medical attention at Rock Bottom lane boy's school as soon as possible." The blonde said in the most adult-sounding voice he could muster. "A boy has an extreme head injury."
"We are sending out an ambulance." The voice replied "Can you tell us how he did it? And what condition he is in now?"
Arthur faltered. He didn't want to answer the first, and he didn't even know WHAT was the answer to the second.
"He- he Fell of the roof and. He's unconscious there was a lot of blood."
The man on the other end of the line tutted "another suicide attempt?"
"..we're not sure yet." Arthur said after a brief pause.
Clack, Clack, Clack,
Footsteps!
In a Flurry of nerves and adrenaline Arthur slammed down the phone. How could of he wasted so much time idly chatting away. He glanced up to see Francis turning towards him and mouthing 'Run!' Before he himself slunk away down the side of the corridor. The Punk bit his lip- it must be a teacher, he tried to turn the corner and get back to the dorm without being seen, but just then a large hand slammed down on his shoulder.
"Who was that you're calling?" It was the Maths teacher. The one who probably hated Arthur the most, the punk could already tell he was in big trouble. Within an instant thee Brit found him being dragged down the corridor by the collar of his shirt.
"Well!? Who were you on the phone to? And who was that I saw running away?" Mr Hardy hissed. He didn't seem actually angry though- why'd he care about people using the school phones without permission? No, he his anger was forced; he was actually happy to get Arthur in trouble.
"I Don't know who you mean, sir." The Punk said, simply. That response earned him a slap the backside of the head.
"You know perfectly well what I mean." Mr Hardy boomed, slamming Arthur against the wall and pinning him there. "Who did you call and who was look out."
Arthur was one of those people who, no matter the situation and no matter the consequences just felt an overwhelming urge to say something sarcastic.
"I was calling your wife sir, she seemed to like me." The Blonde said, grinning slightly despite the pain he was in. This rough-housing was doing nothing for his injures from his fight with Ivan.
BAM!
One minute the Punk was pinned against the wall, the next thing he new he was on the floor. It was only because of years of fighting experience that Arthur was able to dodge out the way of Mr Hardy's kick.
"Your more violent that normal today, sir." Arthur said wryly, narrowing his eyes.
"A boy got a flagstone dropped on his head today. I've come to realize violence is the only language you little shits understand." The Maths teacher said, honestly angry now- or perhaps anger wasn't the right word to describe it. Frustrated maybe? Bitter?
Arthur didn't say anything, he just glared his usual scowl on his face. Why did this guy care do much about a phone call, anyway? The punk guessed it was a mixture of wanting to get revenge on him for all those disrupted maths lessons, and the teachers apparent anger over the events that had just happened.
"Whatever, If your not going to respond to me, maybe the headmaster will know how to deal with you." Mr Hardy said. Arthur internally groaned- did the world just hate him today.


Gilbert crawled along the floor, his head spinning, He attempted to stand up only for the headmaster to send him plummeting back to the floor with a swift whack across the back of thee legs.
The Prussian gritted his teeth and tried to keep steady. He'd been so wild and angry when put in solitary confinement that he'd almost teared down the door. In retaliation, the teachers had forced some kind of strong alcohol down his throat to sedate him, and brought him to the headmaster to deal with.
It had been ten straight minutes of cruel, un-filtered beatings infliction on Gilbert, all the while he was too intoxicated to defend himself, let alone fight back.

A knock at the door. The sound of foot steps. Voices. The Prussian could hardly tell what was going on, he glanced at the door to see the headmaster talking to the math's teacher, who was grabbing a struggling student by the arm. A thick mop of blonde hair, dark eyebrows, burning green eyes. It was Arthur. If he wasn't feeling so nauseous, the Albino might of laughed because the Brit really couldn't stay out of trouble for five minutes (not that Gilbert was much better).
"Yes, I caught him making a phone call without permission- and Just look at him he's obviously been fighting." Mr Hardy said. "I mean if you've got your hands full with Nazi boy over there I'm more than happy to punish him."
"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here." The Punk growled. "Iche not a nazi' Gilbert hissed in German, he hated it when he got called that because of his German heritage.
"Don't worry about it- " The head said quickly, "I think Beildshmidt has learned his lesson. He won't get involved in fights any more, or use fake-tan"
Gilbert cursed Arthur once again for switching his shower gel for fake-tan. Before he had time to even register what was going on, he'd been thrown out the room.

Arthur stood in the middle of the finely furnished office, although his attention at the moment was drawn to how aseptically pleasing the room looked. The Blonde's glare was now focused purley on the man in front of him; The Headteacher.
"So, you thought you'd make a phone call without permission, eh?" The Headmaster asked, a sadistic smile growing on his ruddy face. "Who was it to? I can't imagine anyone who'd like to speak to a street rat like you."
"Yet, here YOU are talking to me." The Punk replied bitterly he regretted his words almost immediately when he felt a sudden blow to the stomach almost knock him of his feet. He looked up in disbelief the Head had never punched him before, hit him with a cane, sure but this direct physical contact just wasn't the man's style.

"You like to fight, don't you boy?" The Headmaster said, suddenly approaching Arthur and half-grabbing his face, pressing down on his bruise painfully, the Brit retreated quickly, pushing the large hand aside and backing away. "You were involved with the fight that made the Russian boy brain dead"
"Ivan's not brain dead." Arthur hissed "And I wasn't in that fight I was at the dorm-"
"Don't lie to me, Kirkland I know you were involved in the fight." The Headmaster said "And Baginski is as good as brain dead or at least he will be. I guess Jones is destined for some time in jail."

Arthur visibly flinched just the tiniest bit but the Head's eager eyes picked it up instantly.
"You don't want that do you? Do you actually care what happens to that stupid American boy? How Pathetic." The Headmaster said, in the most patronizing tone he could muster. It made the Punk's blood boil. "I wonder what life would be like for him in prison- forever branded a criminal, beaten daiyl I suppose- and you don't want me to elaborate what they do to boys like him in prison."
Arthur glared at the floor, unaware that the Headmaster was slowly approaching him. "Ivan will be fine with medical help, Jones doesn't have to go to prison. Not that this hell hole Is much better"
The headmaster paused for a moment "If I were to fork out for a proper doctor to come here it'd come out of my pay-
I simply cannot have that. The school budget is too low."

The Blonde smirked to himself triumphantly thinking of the doctor already on his way. The Head didn't seem to notice.

"You know, I could stop Jones from getting into any trouble at all." The Headmaster said slowly.

Arthur looked at him skeptically- as if The Headmaster would ever do anything so nice, the man was probably just mocking him. "Oh." The Blonde said simply, leaning back on the wall, a suddenly lazy expression on his face.

"You just have to do one thing for me- " The Head said, his eyes boring into Arthur's green orbs. He seemed like he was analyzing the boy in front of him taking in every detail about him. The Punk shifted uncomfortably under the heavy gaze, subconsciously pulling the collar of his shirt up to cover himself more. There was something about the sadistic smile on the Head's face that unnerved the Brit deeply.

"What do you want me to do?" Arthur asked slowly, his glare never wavering.
"Whatever I want you to do." The Headmaster said, suddenly lunging forwards and grabbing the blonde teen by the neck, and using his superior weight to choke hold him backwards onto the desk.

Arthur's reaction was immediate, without even thinking he balled his fists ready to fight. But a sudden cold pressure on his neck stopped him. The Punk felt the cold sting of dread run through him as he realized his position;
Pulled backwards over a desk being half-choked while having a knife held to his neck, while his head was banging painfully from the sudden impact with the desk. Confusion and fear whirled in his sea green eyes, but he didn't dare make a move.

"Just stay still and do exactly what I tell you, boy, or my hand might slip and I'll cut your pretty little neck open." The Head said a sinister edge to his voice. He eyed Arthur with anticipation. "If you do this then the Jones will get in no trouble at all. Wouldn't that be good"
Before Arthur even had a chance to think- let alone respond to those words, heavy hands spun him around and he suddenly had no doubt about the headmaster's intentions. Fear coursed through the teens veins as for one moment he felt utterly helpless- how could he defend himself against a man with a knife? Was this the only way to Save Alfred?
NO! He was Arthur Kirkland and he was through with being a victim! Without regard for his own safety, the Blonde kicked backwards just as the Head had crudely ripped the front of Arthur's shirt sending little grey white buttons flying. The Brit felt a wave of satisfaction when his foot came into contact with the head causing the man to growl in pain and stumble back. The Head moved the Knife away from Arthur's neck as he fell back. Just like the Brit predictable, the man was too afraid of the consequences to actually do something like kill a student.
Without a second thought the Punk bolted for the door, having successfully escaped the Headmaster's grip.
"Walk out that door and you'll regret it, Kirkland!" The Headmaster bellowed, trying to regain his composure. Arthur didn't even consider staying, without even taking the time to pull an arrogant smile and say a scathingly witty line like he usually did, the Blonde left, wanting nothing more than to be out of the room. The Brit could still feel his hands trembling with fear and adrenaline he kept running until

Bam!

He collided with someone. Looking up Arthur saw a very official looking man in a plain black suit, with a grim expression on his face.
"Running in the corridors? That's against the rules is it not?"
The Punk was just about to flip the middle finger at this guy because he was in no mood to be told of, but then the Headmaster appeared, walking briskly down the corridor.
"-You better come back here Kirkland or I'll- " The Head's threats stopped suddenly when he saw the Man in the suit. "M- Mr Biggens!? But I thought we agreed to re-secluded the school inspection!?"
Mr Biggens smiled wryly, his expression holding no happiness at all. "I got a call saying the school changed its mind. Time to inspect the school then, I suppose."


Antonio smiled to himself widely, his expression held no Malice at all but his thoughts did "this is the least I could do to avenge you, Lovi, let's hope a couple of teachers lose their jobs~


I really liked writing this chapter because it had a lot going on, but I realized there were a lot of flaws and unanswered questions like, why is the headmaster such an aweful human being? how could a school this aweful exist? why do the teachers care so much about money why did I change the maths teachers name? why have I gotten so lazy with my writing? XD

Anyway, thank you soooooo much for everyone who reviewed, and read this story :D.. your the best! as always please review to motivate me and to help me improve :p

I've realised I've really drawn this story out, it took me 13 chapters to cover 2 weeks of the story and this story was meant to eventually drag out through the enitre school year, so thats like... 6.5 x 52 for the ammount of chapters I'd have XD..

Okay! someone asked for a character list so here it is (sorry it's a little short!)

England/britain= Arthur Kirkland

America + Alfred F jones

France = Franics Bonnefoy

Russia= Ivan

Spain= Antonio

Prussia= Gilbert