( A/N. Sorry this took so long to post. I had writer's block, school, a broken wrist and finals. But here it is. My companion story to, "I'm Sorry I Can't Be Your Hero." Enjoy! I own nothing. Reviews are appreciated. )

Dark, thick, choking dust covered the sky. A permanent night. Walls toppled over, caving him in. He was trapped. No way out. The space too cramped for his small body. He struggled, but couldn't move. His arms were pinned to his sides. "Help," he pleaded, "Please." He hoped that someone would hear his plea, "Please help. Please."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," a voice whispered. It was thin, weak, and ghostlike, close to non-existence. "I'm sorry, I can't be your hero." It faded away with that final word, leaving him alone in the blackness.

"No, don't leave me…."

He felt tears starting to run down his face. He was stuck, by himself, no one to help him. He was dying. He knew it. He closed his eyes , sucked a final breath and let the thick, hot air cover his body, seep in his lungs and take him away.

Cool air caressed his body, clearing his lungs from choking dust. He could feel the warmth of sunshine on his face. His arms lay loosely.

"Heaven," he whispered.

"You're awake!" The voice jolted him. It was loud, nasally, obnoxious. He tried opening his eyes, they were crusted shut and the bright light hurt his eyes but through the small slit between his eyelids he found two blue eyes staring back at him.

"America-san…Is…is this Heaven?"

The eyes immediately looked concerned. The voice responded, "No, it's the hospital."

Never had the word hospital sounded so joyous to him. He blinked and found the face becoming clearer. He could see the blurry outline of a face, a silver smudge of glasses and mop of blonde hair, one bit standing up.

"So, I'm alive," he whispered with relief.

"Yep," A long gurgling sound followed. He blinked again the face was clearer, the outlines becoming more defined and he could see a hand holding a white cup.

"B-but the last time, we talked..you were…the last..." his voice drifted off.

"It's okay. I'm okay. You know me. I'm a hero. We always recover quickly. I was up and around by the end of the day."

He could feel the smile radiating down from his friend. He tried to smile in return, but stopped himself. Something concerned him.

"Then why didn't you call back?"

America's face became blurrier. It took him a moment to realize, he was crying.

"I did," he sighed. "You've been out for three months."

A lump formed in his throat, "Three…months?"

He felt hot tears forming in his eyes. He bit his lip, trying to stop them..

"Don't worry. The doctors said you'll be back to your old self soon. Besides..." He could feel the warmth of America's smile on his face. It felt just the sun on an earlier summer morning. "I'm gonna help you out. I'm here now. I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner."

He felt America's hand slip into his and then leave. He blinked and everything was clear. He saw America as he left. Clear as day. The young country slipped out the door quietly leaving him alone. That's when he felt something left in his hand. He opened it slowly. Inside his palm lay a tiny origami crane patterned with an American flag. Red and white stripes spread across its wings. Its tail and body was scattered with small white starts on a blue background.

Japan smiled. He didn't feel so alone now. He clutched the little bird in his hand and looked out the window. Out in the yard, he saw a figure with a cowlick and bomber jacket. His hero. And as he watched America he felt a new feeling…hope.