Hetalia-Worldwide Plague Outbreak

Gone...

So this has kinda been bugging me to finish this story, and you guys want me to as well, so I will properly finish it:) this is all I can think of now haha, but give me a break! XD so I'll be uploading every time I think of something...anyway, smash that vote button, leave a comment or an idea of a cure or something, and enjoy!

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When the two arrived back at the plane, all was at it should've been. Hungary and Belarus were playing cards, nibbling on bread pieces; Russia was forced to sit behind Belarus, and America was curled up at the end of the plane, staring out the window, waiting for his brother to come back. Canada's death had hit everyone hard; but America, America had been affected worst of all. He sat, day in and day out, staring out the window. Sometimes he'd whisper Canada's name in a barely audible tone. Sometimes he'd cry. Sometimes, he'd scratch at the window, and sometimes he'd even start screaming. Either way, America was broken.

England and France climbed in holding hands. Everyone's heads shot up.

"Oui. It is true...England and I are deeply in love. And because of that, a certain Frenchman got to see Big Ben...," France snickered, and England glared, but he had a little grin on anyway. And then, something happened that nobody expected.

Everyone burst out laughing. Belarus was in tears. Russia was laughing...non-demonically. Even America was sniggering. Hungary herself was bright red from laughter. England and France paused for a brief moment.

"It's my last few hours, Angleterre," France said, "and I want to enjoy them." He smiled, then sat down beside his laughing comrades and fell on the floor laughing with them. England hesitated, then gladly joined them, a huge smile across his face.

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"So...you two...did the nasty?!" Hungary squealed, laughing so hard she dropped her water bottle. This was the old her; giggly and happy, loving yaoi and wishing she had been there with a camera. The Hungary before the outbreak; before she became a hardcore drill sergeant. England nodded, and everyone laughed again, even France. Maybe it was Canada's happy, passive soul throughout all of them, even if he was gone. His smiling face even when nobody noticed. His joyous laugh even when the joke wasn't for him. His wave of dismissal for every time someone forgot him. It was him, his heart in everyone's, his soul in all of them. They were happy. Even though Canada was gone, even though France was dying, even if they were the only thriving countries left, they were happy.

That night, shifts were forgotten. Everyone was curled around France, lying motionless in the middle of the circle. His hand was grasping England's, tears in the Englishman's eyes. Hungary had her rock hard expression; the happy girl was gone, the coldhearted survivalist was back. Belarus had her eyes squeezed shut, gripping a shaking Russia's wrist. "He was my best friend...him, Prussia, and Spain," Hungary whispered with a sigh.

"I LOVED HIM!" England burst out, then jerked forward to get up, but his hand holding France's held him back. He refused to leave France, no matter the circumstances. "We...will...find...a...cure," England sobbed. "For France. Every bit of progress will be for him." Everyone nodded in agreement. "Someday, we'll figure out how to bring him back. And..and Canada. And everyone."