"Hey guys, sorry!" a familiar obnoxious voice calls from the hallway. The countries gathered around the giant wooden table turn to look at the door, where America is running up to them, looking more than a little rushed.

"America," Germany says, seething, "would you care to explain why you're two hours late to a meeting in Canada?" Canada, who finally got his turn to host the meeting, is now sitting alone again; forgotten.

"Um… just a little money trouble back home," America says, taking a seat between England and Japan. "It's nothing."

Germany gives him a calculating look, as if judging his sincerity. "Very well, then. I'll assume you have the situation under control." He nods once, then sits back down. Everyone knows that the Great Depression hit America hardest.

"Are you sure you're alright, America?" England whispers. The younger country looks up at him and fear flickers across his face for just a second, before it's gone; replaced by his usual cocky grin.

"I'm fine, dude, don't worry about me," he whispers back, trying to sound as much like Canada as possible so they won't get caught talking.

England, still suspicious, turns away. His timing is horrible; just a second later, America starts breathing out dust. I hope nobody saw that, he thinks, looking around.

For a little while, he tries to nonchalantly cover his mouth with his brown bomber jacket to hide the dust. But then, it gets worse. His vision goes completely black.

At first, he expects everyone to start panicking in the dark, but when the meeting just continues as if nothing happened, the ailing country begins to get scared. But, being a hero, he must bear his burdens alone.

So he sits like that through the entire meeting; feeling more and more worried as each minute ticks by on a now-invisible clock. What's going on back home? he thinks. Why am I blind?

Suddenly, he realizes that the talking has stopped, except for one voice. It's an unrecognizable one, but still, he tunes in. "…we're here in New York… engulfed in dust… wind picked up dirt from the Great Plains… expected to have covered 100,000,000 acres by the time it's finished… we advise you to lock….close..." The sound fades away, but it doesn't really matter anymore. Even though he can't see anything, he can feel everybody's eyes on him.

"America…" England says, and he feels a small touch on his shoulder. The shock makes him flinch so much he literally flies out of his chair. He picks himself up and rubs his eyes. "How long has this been going on?" the English man asks.

"Since the beginning of this meeting, I think," America says. "I-I can't see anything. And I feel so quiet inside…" He's shaking. The greatest country in the world is shaking on his knees, head over ears trying to block out the silence.

Someone puts another hand on his shoulder, but this time he doesn't even flinch. It's Canada. "You can stay at my house, okay?" he says quietly. America just nods.

"I'm coming with," England says. "You'll need my help dealing with this one for any amount of time. I did raise him, you know."

Suddenly, an image of the Statue of Liberty completely engulfed in dirt flashes in America's mind, and he screams. The darkness just became even more absolute! It's as if he could never even remember seeing anything in the first place. He can't remember what England's face looks like, or Canada's bear, or the Sun or grass or even hamburgers! "I can't see," he whimpers, "I can't even remember seeing."

"We're going home now," Canada tells everyone, being more forceful than usual. "England, you're stronger than me. Please carry him out to the car."

America feels himself being lifted up, albeit not easily, and carried outside. In about a minute, he feels himself being set back down, and then the movement of a car. "We're going to Canada's?" he asks.

"Yes," England says. "Now let me drive. You Americans drive on the bloody wrong side of the road!"

America laughs a little, but doesn't retort. It's then that England realizes the full extent of his former charge's fear. Usually, he would have insisted that the Europeans drove wrong, and that since his home was the one that the car was invented in, he was the one who drove the right way. It was actually a valid argument, but England would never admit it.

"Don't worry," England says in what he hopes is a comforting tone. "Once the storm passes, it'll all be okay again."

America does seem a little comforted by this, but he's still completely terrified. "I don't like this," he whispers, "I can't remember anything; not the sight of my flag in the breeze, not the juicy layers of a hamburger… not even the bad things, like the bloody soldiers who lost their lives fighting their countrymen. I know all about these things, but there are no pictures in my mind to match them to. I'm going to drown in the blackness…"

The car stops abruptly, and America lurches forward a bit. "We're here," England says, trying to keep his voice from being too thick. He doesn't want America to know he's so worried he's crying.

In Canada's house, all America wants to do is lie down somewhere and sleep, and, hoping it's good for him, the other two allow it.

Even America's dreams are black.

Epilogue

One day, America wakes up, expecting another day of complete darkness, when he realizes that he can see light! It's just a little, and it's sepia-toned, but it's light all the same. When England walks in, he immediately tells him the good news.

"Really?" England says, dropping the tea cup he was holding. "That's great!" He gives the joyous country a hug.

When Canada hears, he insists they celebrate with a pancake breakfast (England wanted to make scones, but America told him he wasn't allowed in the kitchen while he was there).

As the days pass, America's vision gets gradually better, and each day the outlines get more and more clear. Finally, after another couple weeks, the remaining dust is completely cleared, and America runs around, looking at everything, overjoyed at being able to put pictures with his memories again.

Hi! Please don't hurt me; I know I should be working on Past Recount! But I was watching that "America: The Story of Us" thing, and I got a good idea, which led to another good idea, which led to a third good idea. I'm gonna be writing two more America one-shots under this title, but I promise I'll have the next chapter for PR done by next Friday!

In fact, this should probably be done really soon, anyway.

Ciao!