"What?!" America shouted as he unceremoniously fell off the bed.

"Geez, you really are a klutz," said Davie as he observed America's weird spastic reaction.

"I said my name is Davie," he reiterated.

Okay America, calm down he said to himself. This is clearly not your Davie and you have to stop freaking out every time someone tells you that is their name. It was centuries ago and they don't even look that alike. For one thing this Davie's hair is a lot darker and their facial structures are completely different.

"Hello? Anybody home in there?" asked Davie, as he waved his hand across America's blank face.

"Uh, yeah sorry about that. I just zoned out for a minute," said America.

"If you say so...," said Davie unconvinced, but he quickly forgot about it as he moved on to his next set of questions.

"So what's your name? I told you mine, so it's only fair if you tell me yours," said Davie. America smiled at Davie, relieved that this was a question he could actually answer.

"Alfred F. Jones"

"What does the 'F' stand for?" asked Davie, causing Alfred to give off a torrent of laughter.

"Hey, what's so funny?" asked Davie with his eyebrows drawn together.

"Nothing, it's just you would be surprised at how often I get asked that question," Alfred said with a slight laugh. "But I can't tell you, it's a secret."

"What?! Oh, come on that is not fair!" shouted Davie.

"If it makes you feel any better even my brother doesn't know," replied Alfred, which did slightly mollify Davie.

"So you have a brother? Does he live with you? Can I meet him?" asked Davie excitedly.

"He's not here with me, sorry," said America apologetically.

"Oh, I get it," said Davie after a moment. "he's like papa. Mama says that papa is not here with us anymore, but one day we will be able to see him again."

America wasn't sure what to say to that and as he was thinking of words to say to Davie, he heard the door at the front of the house open. A women in her mid-forties with the same brown hair as Davie and a lined face walked into the room.

"Davie, why is our guest on the floor?" asked Davie's mother. "You haven't been harassing him, have you?"

"It's not my fault he fell off the bed! I was just telling him my name and he jumped off like a spider was down his pants or something," Davie said defensively, which caused America to blush sheepishly.

"It's nice to meet you ma'am and thank you again for helping me," said America as he rose from the ground and stood before Davie's mother. "If there is anything I can do to repay you, just ask."

"Don't worry about it," said Davie's mother kindly. "It's not as if we could leave you bleeding out in the middle of the road."

"Although your head has healed extremely fast, considering how deep the gash was."

"I guess I'm just lucky," said Alfred with a nervous laugh.

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" she asked.

"Thank you for the offer, but I should really get going," said Alfred, but his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl as he said it. Davie's mother let out a light laugh.

"Please at least stay for supper. I insist," she said with a smile. "Davie can help you remove your bandages, while I prepare the food." Then, she left and soon Davie and America were once again alone in the room.

Davie grabbed his arm and started to drag him back toward the bed.

"Okay, sit down and try not to fall anymore," said Davie.

"You know, I'm not actually that clumsy," America replied as Davie unwound the bandages across his forehead.

"Your track record says otherwise," said Davie as he threw away the bloody bandages.

"Hey I forgot to ask, but what's that thing on your wrist?" asked Davie, motioning toward the device.

"Oh, it's just a watch that I mad—" said America, but he stopped midway as he looked at his inter-dimensional transportation device for the first time since he arrived in this new land. His eyes widened at the sight before him. One side of the device was completely burned and small wires were sticking out of it. The face of the watch-like device was intact, but had cracks running all along its surface. The battery also seemed to have completely died when the device blew out. Well shit.

"Hey are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Davie said with a worried look, but America didn't reply. He was too busy trying to figure out how he was going to get back home with a broken transporter. Best case scenario, it would take him at least two days to repair the device assuming he could find all the necessary parts. However, fixing the wiring wasn't the biggest problem. The main issue was with the battery, which required huge amounts of energy to give the device enough power to function properly. He suddenly realized that there was something tugging on the arm of his bomber jacket and looked down.

"Finally! I've been calling your name for the last five minutes," said Davie. "mama says supper is ready."

"Oh, right. Yeah...," said America distractedly as he let Davie lead him toward the small table in the kitchen.

...

Supper consisted of a very thin, watery soup with meager bits of vegetables scattered throughout and a small bite sized roll. It was not much, but Alfred wasn't going to complain. He remembered times in his history when food was scarce. His early pioneer days were not exactly a walk in the park and the Great Depression had been a big low point in his life.

Now that he was able to get a look at the small house he was in, he realized that it was slowly falling apart with its peeling wallpaper and boarded up windows. Honestly, he felt horrible for imposing on them when they did not have much to give in the first place.

"So, Davie says that your name is Alfred. How old are you?" asked Davie's mother with a bit of hidden apprehension behind her eyes.

"I'm nineteen ma'am," said Alfred with a small hint of a southern accent slipping through. His voice always had a habit of doing that when talking to women who were physically older than him, especially when he was visiting his southern states. Although, technically he was older than most people by a good couple centuries.

"That's good, it means you are too old for the reaping," said Davie's mother as the slight tension in her shoulders eased a bit.

"I heard Davie mention that earlier, what's the reaping?" asked America with slight confusion.

"It is how tributes are chosen to compete in the Hunger Games,"said Davie's mother.

"I've never heard of it before. What are the Hunger Games?" asked America.

"You've never heard of the Hunger Games before?" said Davie's mother with shock clearly visible on her face.

"I told you he was weird. He didn't even know what District 3 was," Davie loudly whispered to his mother.

"I must have forgotten all this stuff when I hit my head," America said trying to act as casual as he could, but it was hard lying to a woman who was nothing but kind to him.

"You are not from around here, are you?" she said in a matter of fact tone.

"What? How did you–"

"Is it that obvious?" said America as he kissed his cover goodbye.

"Who are you really? Spies for the Capitol or for the peacekeepers?" asked Davie's mother harshly, but there was a sense a fear behind her brave stance.

"No, I'm not a spy! My name really is Alfred F. Jones," America said quickly.

"I'm honestly just trying to get back home, but my ride back is kind of broken," he said as he held out his wrist to show her the broken transporter.

"A broken watch? You expect me to believe this story of yours?"asked Davie's mother. America knew when he was fighting a losing battle. Even to him the story sounded a bit crazy.

"Look, I'm sorry to have caused you such distress, and if it's what you want I can go," said America with a dejected voice. "but please believe me when I say thank you for everything you've done for me."

Davie's mother locked eyes with Alfred and for some inexplicable reason she felt that she could place her entire trust in him. Alfred broke off the eye contact and turned to head toward the door.

"Wait!"

Alfred turned around at the woman's voice and saw her face conflicted. When she turned to him, she had a determined look in her eye.

"I don't know why, but even when the logical part of my brain is telling me not to trust you, for some unexplainable reason I believe you," said Davie's mother.

"You do?!"

"Yes, and I'm willing to help you get back home if I can, even if I don't completely understand everything," said Davie's mother. "but I think you should stay with us until you leave."

"I don't want to put you out or anything," Alfred said. "you've done more than enough for me already."

"Nonsense, you'll be staying with us," she said firmly, but kindly. "besides if you really are not from here I doubt that you have a place in mind to stay for the time being." He could not exactly fight with that logic and having someone who knew the area could help him find a place to get the supplies he needed to fix his inter-dimensional transporter.

"So I guess I should probably tell you what I need in order to get home," said America, when he was suddenly tackled into a hug by a very energetic little boy.

"Does this mean you're staying? I always wanted a brother!" said Davie with a huge smile across his face.