Chapter One – Homeless and Tempest-tost

The wind whipped through my hair and I could smell the salt of the sea; there was just enough of a spray to dampen my thick jacket. I didn't mind, though. It was better on the deck, away from all the noise. I was shivering and I could hardly open my eyes in the icy wind, but it was better to finally be away from the cramped little cabin that I shared with many, many others. The number varied by night, but there was always the noise of the young children screaming, and the old people coughing, and of every stomach crying out with hunger.

"You became also crowded, yes?" an amused voice asked from behind me.

I turned around and saw that the speaker was a little old woman with a cheerful, crooked smile, and a colorful scarf wrapped around her head. The combination of her grammar and accent rendered her almost incomprehensible, but I tried to come up with something polite to say nonetheless. "Well, I suppose so," was the best I could do.

Unfortunately, my lame response didn't dissuade her in the slightest. "There has too many were! But, outside is better with fresh air, with you agree I."

"I… well, um… yes, I suppose you're right…" I continued to sputter for a bit, giving myself time to unravel her garbled speech, but my own English wasn't great either. Finally I gave up. "Do you speak any other languages?"

"Yiddish speak I from childhood, but Russia speak I as well. My English improve I also much better," she beamed proudly.

As reluctant as I was to burst her bubble, this conversation could not possibly continue in English. Not too long ago I had been fluent in Yiddish, but I'd lost a lot of territory recently. That left only one other option: Russian. I tried to keep my scowl to a minimum. "Ya govoryu na russkom."

We conversed for some time about our travel experiences: the overcrowding, rudeness of the ticket masters, unfairness at the checkpoints; but mostly, the jubilation that it would all be over in just a few more hours. Just a few more hours, and Lady Liberty herself would be gazing at us from across the Hudson River. I knew the brazen giant's words by heart:

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

She flashed a wide grin as I finished my recitation. "I can't believe you memorized the whole thing," she said, her voice almost laughing. "Do you know what all those words mean?"

"That wasn't the whole poem," I said, "but I do know all the words." Despite my initial irritation she had turned out to be a delightful conversationalist. In many ways she reminded me of my sister: free-spirited and free of ambitions. Mirroring her infectious smile, I added, "I had an English dictionary back home."

We sat in peaceful silence for some time, and I was free to reflect upon my situation. Even then, I knew that I would be sad when the time came for me to leave this place. As long as I was here, all my problems were a world away. Here I could take shelter from the eternal storm of my life, but only for a short time. Amerika, the beautiful young nation that had it all, was not the place for me. After all, I hadn't come to run from my problems, but to regain my strength so I could face them head-on. Lenkija had stolen my heart, and I would not rest until it was returned to me.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked.

The statement took me by surprise, but there was nothing wrong with her showing a little sympathy. "I am fine," I said.

"Are you sure?" she persisted. "You look rather ill. Perhaps you ought to go inside."

"That wouldn't help," I said before I realized how odd it must have sounded. She was right; I had been under the weather lately, but in my case the weather had nothing to do with it. Being a… well, whatever I was, my health reflected the economy of my nation. And poor Lietuva had been having major financial problems ever since we had regained our freedom. But that was why I was here now: to make some money, and send it home.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to pry." She squirmed in silence for a minute, and I waited patiently. Finally she spoke again: "You're about the same age as my son. He's in Amerika already." Her expression twisted painfully. "My only child, alone on the other side of the world."

I gave her a gentle look that was meant to be reassuring, but she jumped and pointed, "There it is again! That look in your eyes." She blinked back the beginnings of tears. "You seem so lonely."

I chose my words carefully. "I'm... older than I look," I said, and tried to leave it at that. But she was clearly still worried about her child. Which wasn't all that surprising, I suppose. It was easy to forget that I had the appearance of a slightly disheveled young man, and as such, that was how most people saw me. The poor woman was afraid that her son would greet her with a thousand years of regret etched in his face.

Wishing to quell these fears, I considered telling her the truth. But lately, some of the others had been insisting that we be more discreet when dealing with normal humans. Supposedly it was 'for our own safety,' but I had been shot in the head multiple times and still survived, so I didn't see the point. What could mere mortals possibly do to us that we hadn't already done to each other?

Nevertheless, I held my tongue on the matter. I didn't enjoy being enigmatic, but the shock and disbelief that always followed such confessions were a bit tiresome. "Don't worry about your son. As long as he has his loving mother, he'll never be… quite this lonely."

Out of respect, she held her silence. Even though I'd had conversations like this a thousand times before, each time it reminded me of all the deaths I've seen, and all the loved ones I've lost. She thinks I'm remembering one death, I thought. Only one.

Suddenly the sounds shifted. The whirring of the steamer's engines slowed, and the sounds of excited voices began to emerge. I forced my eyes open and gasped involuntarily, giving myself a rather large mouthful of scarf. But at that moment I didn't care, because I could see her in the distance. We, the huddled masses, the homeless and the tempest-tost, all squinted into the distance where we could just see Lady Liberty. From our perspective she was only an amorphous piece of green metal shrouded in fog, but we knew her, and the cold metal of her torch set our hearts aflame with hope.

Those who could not see tried to shove their way onto the deck, but not everyone fit. The old woman and I, being the first on deck, were crushed against the railing. It was difficult to breathe, and my head was spinning. The heat was overwhelming, but I tried to convince myself that this feeling would pass in a moment.

Damn it! Just when I thought my economy was finally beginning to stabilize! This was the strongest spell I'd had since the Red Army's invasion, and of course, yet again, it was happening at the very worst of times. I couldn't faint in the middle of this crowd, I would be trampled, I had to steel myself against this nausea, but it was a battle against my own body, I couldn't fight with my heart whirring ineffectively like an ill-fitting gear, but I wouldn't lose, I couldn't lose this battle against the darkness, I had to hold on… hold on to something… but the world was going cold.

Lenkija. Lenkija was the only one not trying to kill me. I would have to accept his proposal, even though I didn't like it. Sooner or later, Prūsija would get the upper hand against us; he grew more powerful every day. But when had he become so cruel? Didn't he remember those days playing innocently with me and the others in the forest? Žemaitija, Žiemgala, Sėla, Latgala… my sisters. They were gone. Prūsija and Vokietija had killed them all. No, not all—Latvija is still alive. I couldn't remember who he belonged to, but I knew he was someone's slave. He was always someone's slave. But there was someone else, Lenkija wasn't the only one…

Rusija. My blood curdled just from thinking his name. I still wasn't truly free from him. I would never be free. Even when they told me I was free, even when they'd signed all the paperwork, he still forced my compliance, and his soldiers marched through my lands… to attack Lenkija…

The sudden reawakening of my own memories hit me like a shockwave. That was why Lenkija attacked me. He thought I couldn't take care of myself, and I had proved it by letting Rusija bully me again. Lenkija wanted me to die, and he wanted my land, my home, my people; he wanted to claim them for himself again. He thought he could take me before Rusija, just like he had so many years ago. But we couldn't live like that again… why didn't Lenkija understand?

"Lenkija! Stop, Lenkija! He's going to kill us! You'll never survive if you make enemies of us both!" Something tore at my throat and pounded at my ears. Eventually I became semi-aware that it was my own voice, screaming. "Please don't kill me, please don't take my people away from me, Rusija, I love them! I cannot belong to you, Lenkija, Rusija! Let me be free, please, please, don't take me away!"

I felt strong hands close around my wrists, an ever-too-familiar sensation, and I struggled and thrashed to try to get free, even though I knew he would only hurt me more. "LET GO!" I screamed, and the hands immediately followed my command.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… um…" a soft voice said somewhere above my head, and even through my hysteria I realized that there was something unusual about him today. What language was that anyway? But I was in no state to give this much thought. I felt so helpless. I dissolved into desperate tears. I could feel his eyes on me, but the hands did not return. "You're safe now," the voice said, and for some inexplicable reason I believed it. I cried myself to sleep, but the next bout of fevered dreams was more peaceful.

I woke caged in blankets drenched in my own sweat. But I was glad for the sheets. Shivers wracked my frame, and every inch of my body felt so weak that it hurt. I needed water, but when I tried to move it sent an unbearable jolt of pain through me. The urge to break down in tears again was powerful, but my body wasn't even strong enough to do that. I wished for blissful unconsciousness to take me, but my grimy throat was too much of a distraction, a void gnawed at the inside of my stomach, and my skin burned while my insides froze.

Relief consumed me when I heard soft footsteps. I tried to move, to make some signal to this other presence that I was here, and that I needed him. He heard me. "Hey, you're awake!" his voice proclaimed, a bit too loudly, but I was glad to hear it. I tried to look at him, but my neck still felt like it was full of icy needles.

"You don't have to move, just hold on one sec," he said, and the next thing I saw was half of whatever I was laying on moving away from me. I panicked for a moment, and then realized that whatever he was doing to the other half of this large cushion, I was safely on one side of it. I looked up at him, and saw a tall young man with blonde hair and silly spectacles. He was a perfectly average-looking fellow, but that thing had to be at least twice his size.

I had only a moment to wonder how on Earth he was moving it before he started babbling again. "Hahaha, yeah, you were rolling around so much I was afraid you'd fall on the floor, so I pushed the couches together to make a giant crib. Wasn't that clever?" He grinned at me as if expecting a response, but I hadn't yet regained the ability to make facial expressions, which was probably for the best since I couldn't tell how I was meant to respond anyway.

He finished moving the couch and put a coffee table in its place. There was a variety of random objects on its surface, one of which was a little brass bell that he picked up and jingled at me. "I told you this earlier, but you were looking at me like I had two heads or something, so I'm guessing I should tell you again: if you need anything, just ring this and I'll come as soon as I can, all right? Um... there's some books, in case you get bored, or you can listen to the radio, it's over there, and, yeah, I think that's pretty much it. Oh right, water! Gotta stay hydrated, you know? I'll go refill it, be back in a sec!"

He spoke so loud and fast that I had to wonder when he found time to breathe. I was glad he had thought of bringing water himself, because I wasn't sure I could speak yet. He returned moments later with a glass half-full of water.

"All right, sit up. Can you do it yourself? I mean, I can help, it's just that you get a little upset sometimes if I touch you, and I suppose if you can do it by yourself then you'd rather do that, right? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with me helping you, except that it freaks you out, that isn't good, and I guess that's 'cause it's kind of embarrassing, huh? But that's okay! You're really sick, so you shouldn't be embarrassed at all that you need a little help! I mean, that's what other people are for, right? We all help each other when we're hurt or sick, that's what friends are for, and I'm totally sure that you would help me if I needed it, so... um... I can't remember what I'm trying to say, but I'll tell you if it hits me again..."

I wish I could blame my whimpering on the fever, but it was his words that brought that pathetic sound to my lips. He talked about friendship as if it was so simple and pure—and it wasn't so long ago that I had thought so too. I thought friendship was pure until Lenkija taught me the truth. He taught me that friendship is only a mask the day he stole my heart. I lost that innocent optimism the day Lenkija betrayed me.

My noisy caretaker moved to comfort me when he heard the sound, but stopped short of touching me. I felt a little guilty that he thought he had to be so timid around me. There was no way he had understood anything I said in delirium; no one spoke my native language but me. Apparently incoherent shrieking and thrashing had been enough to get that message across. I don't know how, but I managed to eke out the words "Help... me... water..." He brought his hands close to my shoulders, but they hovered there until I looked him in the eyes and nodded my approval.

Helping me sit up, the man brought the glass to my lips so I could drink it. He still refused to touch my face though, and without the support my lips slipped and some water spilled onto the blankets. "Oh! Sorry! Ahaha, that was kinda clumsy, wasn't it? Well, not that much spilled, so no big deal I guess. You alright?"

I couldn't help but smile a little at the way he nervously tried to fill the silence with his hyperactive babble. Immediate need satisfied, my body decided to start nodding off again. I wasn't quite sure why, but I whispered a gentle "Thank you" before dropping off to sleep again.

The next time I awoke, it was with a burning hunger. Food. I needed something to eat. I tried to get up, but it made the room spin, and my legs shook underneath me. Before, when that man had been talking about embarrassment, it didn't really register, but now that my awareness level had risen slightly, I was mortified at the prospect of ringing a little bell for help walking.

So far, this man had not taken advantage of my vulnerability. That didn't discount the possibility that he might try eventually, but, thinking over the events from last time I woke up, I decided that I wasn't in any immediate danger from him.

There was still the task of ringing the bell. I sat and stared at it for a while longer, trying to steel myself against my own sinking pride. Encouraged by a spasm of pain from my empty stomach, I finally managed to do it.

As promised, a loud voice immediately yelled, "COMING!" from some distance away. After a minute or two, he was at my side. It hadn't occurred to me until he arrived that I would have to ask him to make food for me. It was deeply humiliating, but as usual necessity dictated my actions.

"Um... please, if you don't mind, I'd... um... please... I'd like something to eat, please."

"Oh, of course! How about some chicken noodle soup?"

"That sounds wonderful, um... Mister...?"

"Great! I'll start heating it up right away, and you can just rest a little more until it's ready, okay? I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine, I mean, you've been sleeping for four days now, but you're sick so you never know, you might still be tired. I mean, being sick just sucks the life right outa you, which totally sucks, am I right?"

"Four... four days? As in..."

"Yup!" He held up four fingers enthusiastically. "Anyway, I'll show you to the kitchen once the soup's done, for now you should just rest or something, I guess."

"Actually, if you don't mind..." I was a little hesitant because I was trying to gauge his reactions, trying to figure out what behavior was acceptable to this man. "I'd like to come with you, please."

"Oh, totally! It'll be awesome to have someone to talk to while I'm cooking! It's been awful lonely around here lately…" He looked a little distracted for a moment, then shook his head to clear the thought and turned his attention back to me. "Well, come on then! Up with you!" He laughed loudly.

It seemed that almost any behavior was acceptable to him, since he didn't have any manners himself... but then again, I hadn't said much yet, so there was no way for me to know how he would react to changes in our situation. Even Rusija was kind under certain circumstances. Having dealt with a few too many psychopaths in my time, I knew that their behavior was prone to spin a full 180 when prompted with the right (or rather, the wrong) stimuli.

In any case, it was quite evident that I was physically incapable of walking on my own. I had tried my best to stand, but my knees gave in and I fell back onto the couch. He held out his hand to me and said, "It's okay. You can lean on me." Taking hold of his outstretched palm, we made it a few steps before I fell again, but since he was holding onto me he was able to slow the fall. He got down on his knees and asked, "Is it all right if I pick you up?"

At first I was hesitant because I didn't want him to hurt himself, but I remembered how easily he had moved that couch and decided that I probably wouldn't be much of a challenge for him. I nodded slowly, and he lifted me like I weighed nothing. It was a bit of a shock. I knew I had lost weight from being ill for so long, but there was no way it was just me. His strength was... inhuman.

Now I was worried. If he did turn out to be a psychopath, the worst possible introduction was to invite further interaction, then allow him physical dominance. I probably should have been worried a little sooner, considering the circumstances. After all, as far as I knew, this person had found me passed out on the deck of a ship and brought me into his house, not even knowing who I was, and nursed me back to health.

Worst-case scenario, he had claimed me for his own, and considering my history, that wasn't so far-fetched. If I showed any signs of fear now, it could be the end of me. That always set Rusija off. Fear. This person appeared to be almost as strong as Rusija, perhaps even stronger, and his personality so far hadn't given me any clues as to what he was really like. There had to be more beneath his goofy exterior. There always was. He might be cheerful, but no one was happy all the way to the core. Even those with good intentions had a few rotten places, folded away somewhere within themselves. Even the best people. Even me.

Lenkija showed me that. Lenkija brought out the worst in me. He was the one who discovered the anger and spite in my soul, and brought them to the surface.

The man put me down in a kitchen chair, and I realized that I had forgotten to be scared. Even though he was strong, he was gentle and timid whenever he made physical contact with me. That was a good sign. Rusija had always treated me like his property, but this man felt he needed permission even to touch my hands. He moved with such incredible trepidation; I had to wonder if perhaps he truly was as kind as he seemed.

Once he was no longer required to be close to me he went right back to his usual babble, prattling about "Model T" while opening a can of soup. He emptied it into a pan and turned on the stove, then crossed the kitchen to the table and said, "So! You're Lithuania. You must be really exotic, 'cause you're not on my map at all. Are you a real country or are you one of those... colonies, or... micro-nations..."

"No, I'm a real country. I just became independent a few years ago. But... how do you know who I am?"

"Oh, the CIA picked you up!"

I stared blankly.

"Well, see, you were like, sick or something, and this little old lady convinced them to take you to a hospital, and the doctors totally freaked 'cuz you're not human. They knew just from looking at you! Well, I mean, not just from looking at you, they must've done some tests I guess, but still! The things we can do with medicine these days! Pretty awesome, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's quite awesome. So... ehm... Mister See-aye-ey knows about... nation people...?"

"Exactly! See, guys like us are totally top secret, so, the hospital thought you were like an alien or something, like from outer space, but the CIA are spies so they get to know about classified stuff!"

"Guys like us? Wait—does that mean you are also... ehm..."

"Whaaa...? Oh! Wait, you think I'm just a normal dude? HAHAHAH ohhh that is sooo funny! But seriously, dude, how do you not know? I'm freakin' America, dude!"

"Oh!" I said with relief, "that explains a few things," and made a mental note not to mention to him that I regularly corresponded with my citizens.

"You betcha it does! Man! You are one funny dude! Hahahahaha! I'm gonna go check on the soup." I was a little surprised by the abrupt transition, but the smell of soup wafted in and immediately hunger overtook my curiosity. Amerika returned with a loud "Heeeeere's the Soup King! Aahaha! I'm only joking, that would be totally weird. No kings here, 'cause this is the Land of the Free! I guess that makes me the Soup President then, huh? Anyway, here's the soup, be careful 'cause it's kinda hot!"

He continued babbling, this time about whether women should be allowed to vote. I found this much more interesting than the Model T talk, especially since the speaker himself seemed so conflicted about it. After all, Lenkija and I had always fought over whether there ought to be separate laws for people of different demographics, back when we were a democracy; though I admit it had never occurred to me to include women.

I missed being a true democracy. It always made me feel better working with a boss who my people had chosen. At the moment, Rusija had left my home in such chaos that I couldn't even take an accurate vote, but it still made me feel more comfortable knowing that Amerika was dealing with problems I could relate to.

It also gave me a sense of reality. Amerika might be the most prosperous place in the world now, but his streets were not paved with gold and he had his own problems to face. His strength still frightened me a bit, but he seemed very earnest.

By the time I finished eating, I began to feel drowsy again, but there was something I had to do before I slept. "Amerika..." I said softly.

"Hmm?" he answered. I was mildly surprised he had heard me, but glad.

"I haven't seen it yet."

"Seen...?"

"Anything! I mean... I've only seen the inside of this house..."

"Oh! Oh, I see... well, we can't see the whole country right now, gosh, I haven't even seen every part of it, and I've lived here my whole life! Hahaha, of course I have. But you're in no condition to go sightseeing!" I felt myself sag a little, and again I was a surprised that he was picking up on my reactions. "I guess we can check out the view from the front porch if you really want to."

"Yes, please! I'd appreciate that very much, if you please, Mr. Amerika."

"No need to be so formal. It's only the front porch!"

"Yes, M... Amerika. Thank you."

He picked me up again, and this time I let myself relax in his arms. With my head against his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, but I jumped in alarm when I realized how fast it was. "Am... am I too heavy?" I asked.

"No," he responded, "why would you think that?"

"Your heartbeat..." I mumbled, "It's so fast... and loud..."

"Really? It doesn't seem any faster than normal."

"It's always like this?"

"Yup! At least I think so..." He pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cool autumn breeze.

It was beautiful. A whole street block with perfect little houses just like this one. In one of the other yards, I could see children playing with their dog; in another, a man washing his car. The breeze rustled through big green leaves, just a few tinged with yellow. It was all so peaceful, and yet so alive.

Too exhausted to worry any more, I drifted off to sleep with my head resting against Amerika's racing heart. The last thing I heard was "You're safe now" before the darkness took me.

Author's notes:

Re-uploaded 4/17/2013 with special thanks to my Beta Extraordinaire, Punmaster Extrordinaire, and to my reviewers, for letting me know which parts were working and which were falling through the cracks. Your feedback is very much appreciated, and has helped me add a whole new layer of refinement to the story. :)

First of all, names: Lietuva = Lithuania, Amerika = America (duh), Lenjika = Poland, Prūsija = Prussia, Vokietija = Germany, Latvija = Latvia, Rusija = Russia, and the ones he refers to as "my sisters" are indigenous Baltic tribes. Hoorah.

History lesson (because I love it when Himaruya does these sorts of explanations): I'm sure most people already know this, but Eastern European immigrants came to the U.S. in droves in the early 20th century. That sonnet he recites is an excerpt from "The New Colossus" by Emily Lazarus, and is engraved on the pedestal at the foot of the Statue of Liberty, and symbolized hope and the American Dream for those newcomers. Lithuania became independent in 1918 (in the aftermath of WWI), and this is the early 1920's (1922, to be precise), so he's the new kid on the block as far as the other nation-tans are concerned.

Next chapter- The Modern Household: America "hires" Liet as his housekeeper.

This chapter brought to you with limited commercial interruption by Generic Manhattan Tours Co.

"We've got a big ol' statue here, so come visit Manhattan!"