SHOUTOUT~ This is dedicated to Pidge, my loyal stalker. Please, Pidge, get an account (it's free!) so you can add favorites, possibly write (if you want to) and you can leave signed reviews that I can respond to. I would really like to talk to you. Love and pasta for Pidge, everyone!

Anyway, it's my first angsty fic~

It's post-WWII, as in the day it ended.

I dunno. The title sucks, but whatever. And I've kinda started to like Rus/Ame more than UKUS again...

America closed her eyes, turning away from England and facing the wall.

He frowned. "Is something wrong?" The moonlight filtered in from the window and cast shadows throughout the room.

She sucked in a deep breath and tensed as he set a hand on her shoulder.

"It's the window."

He tried to force his mind out of its sleepy state but could only come up with an inarticulate, "What?"

"Every time I look out the window…" She paused, but seemed to gain momentum, the words tumbling out as if she couldn't get rid of them fast enough, "Every time I see the destruction outside, and I realize this is our fault. So many people are dead trying to take down one person.

"I see the grief on our people's faces, and the hatred, and the fear in our children's eyes. And I think about them, and how we could have stopped it all if only we'd been a little faster." She spat the last sentence out vehemently, voice low with shame and self-hatred.

"Look!" She traced pale white scars on his side. "That could have been stopped." She pointed to an angry red gash of her own, barely healed, then thick white bandages on her arms. "That could have been stopped."

Her voice trembled. "But the worst part is…is when I look outside at night, and I think about everything, and I see the moonlight on my hands, and everything is stained red. My hands are covered with the blood of my people, and it won't wash off!"

"It's…" okay? He fell silent. No comforting words could really do anything, because it really wasn't okay. It suddenly struck him how young she really was. Truly, she was only a lost little girl, braving the wars, blindly following and trying to makes sense of the chaos around her.

He put his arms around her, and she trembled silently, refusing to let the tears fall from her eyes. Curling into his side, she rested her head on his chest. He stroked her short hair and hummed quietly.

A choked sob broke from her lips as she began to cry softly.

"Shh…" He stroked her back comfortingly.

He cradled her in his arms as the first pale arms of the sunrise tinged the sky red.

"I'm sorry…" she mumbled.

"It's okay." And for the first time, he felt the words had some truth in them.

Together, they watched the sun paint the sky.

I had no idea how to end that...now I wish I had put Russia in...damn. Is it too late to change?

Whatever. Review, stalk (not for real!), and thanks again to Pidge, who motivates me time and time again.

Peace, love, and pasta. Cake-error out~