Nightmares

He pressed his lips together, choking down the scream that he wanted to let loose. Sweat stuck his shirt to his back yet he felt cold and the shiver that ran through him had no place with how warm it really was. Flashes of the last scene that he can remember came to the fore and all that he could do was fist the blanket that covered him.

One breath.

Another.

Anything, to calm himself down. Sometimes it was hard to separate the dream with the here and now. He has had nightmares before. Some were silly, some just after playing another one of Japans games, or watching another one of his incredible horror flick, but none has had the long-staying power of this particular nightmare. It was the same one, again and again.

His throat dry and mind not completely at the here and now, the United States of America or America to most, knew sleep was not going to come by anytime soon. He had a choice. He could stay where he was and hope that at the very least he could rest his body even if his mind would not let him or he could get up and do something productive. He was an old hand at it by now, productive it was.

A bath and coffee after, he was staring out of his hotel window at the Vancouver Downtown scene. It was quiet, nothing like the war-zone that it became a few months back. They take hockey seriously here but that night had been one of the few that his brother had truly been embarrassed about. It was actually calming. His brother was one of the few he considered safe, if there ever was a safe place.

The decision to drive in early to stay the night rather than wake up early and risk coming in late for the meeting with the other nations had been a no-brainer, no matter what others say about his mental capacity. It meant that he also had his presentation ready, already. This meant that if he pulled out his work he'll just ruin it somehow. So work was out of the window.

It has been a while since it happened. 9/11. It was almost a decade now, a long time for humans, barely a blink for a nation. The nightmares didn't start then. It started way before, only it was not as intense as after that date.

As a child he had had nightmares of his brother/guardian never coming back. After the revolution it went away. He was too busy with his own people to worry about others then. His civil war made sure of that. When the great wars came it had come back. Nations he cared about were getting hurt. His brother and his brother/guardian(ex-brother/ex-guardian) were hurting and he was an ocean away, safe. And they wondered why he called himself a Hero. If the Hero business meant that those people he cared for were safe then that was what he was going to do. Even if he came late, all that mattered was that he got there.

Now, though, he wanted to be able to prevent it, even if he had to use the "third option". Canada he trusted, he was safe, maybe because he was invisible half the time and his capital was a secret. Heck, even he sometimes forgets that he had a brother and that was saying something, maybe. England was another matter completely. They knew him. They knew he and England were close, as close as two nations could be without sharing landmass, no matter what history they had.. or maybe because of that. He wasn't as worried about attacks of the grand scale as he was of the many small ones that had happened since. Now that he was more aware he saw that between the two of them England had more attacks of that nature. And that scared him.

He had his Homeland Security and his other groups to keep his people safe and he still feels the fear of his people and for his people. England, as another nation, he could not protect, short of making him a state and probably killing him with that act. Not that England would ever let him. Gentleman his butt, he was a punk and a pirate. A shank in his gut would be what he'll get if he even tried it.

And that was the crux of it. Terrorism, war, or natural disasters whatever the reason but the end results were the same: London in flames or gone. And he was an ocean away, safe.

The sun was up and he knew he could go bother England in his hotel room across the hall. He knew he could have gotten more sleep if he had slipped in the others room and slept in his bed. Having him there, knowing that he was alright and was just there would have helped. He could have lied and told the other that he watched another horror movie. But, that was an excuse he saved for the really bad nightmares. The ones where the nightmare didn't stop with London but watching the personification, England himself, suffer and die in the aftermath.

A few steps had him knocking softly at the others door. When it went unanswered he didn't give it much thought. The other was likely in the shower by then, early to rise and all that. Glad that he was able to ask for the others key card, he swiped and pushed in. Only when he found the lights turned down that he covers on the floor that he felt his blood run cold. A soft whimper had him flicking on the light reaching for the other nation.

England was pale as the sheets he lay in. There was no blood and that helped him breathe around the tightness in his chest. The other was conscious and he could here soft whispers of "No" and "Stop". Sweat slid from the others brow and all America could discern was that the other was in pain. He held the other gently and rocked him to and fro. He didn't know what was happening but at least this he can do.

With one hand he reached for the remote and the TV came on to scenes of one of his nightmares.

London was in chaos.

AN: Sorry England just had to write about your riots. Constructive criticism well received. Flames are not.

Disclaimers: All characters belonged to their original creator, Hidekaz Himaruya, I just commandeered some of the characters for a night out into my own demented world