"England!" The happy-go-lucky American bounced into the room to greet his friend. He paused when he saw England lying on the bed, coughing. His face was red from his illness and he was sweating profusely, "Dude, you alright?"

"Oh, America," England opened one of his emerald green eyes to make contact with America's icy blue ones, "No, I'm having an economic crisis, right now."

"What's an economic crisis?" America asked, genuinely confused, as he walked towards England.

"It's when your economy breaks." England answered, "You get sick if that does happen."

"Sick?" America grinned, "I know a cure England! Don't worry! The hero will save you!"

"I don't need your help, you git!" England screamed.

America placed a warm hamburger on top of England's forehead and tilted his head, "Hm? Why isn't it working?"

"Hamburgers don't solve everything!"

"Of course they do, Iggy!"

"Stop calling me that!"

America's eyes snapped open. The room in the train was dead silent, only the sounds of America's heavy breathing could be heard. His heart pounding against his rib cage and sweat started forming. America sat up and pressed a hand to his face, he felt something wet touch his fingers before he realised he was crying. 'An economic crisis,' America thought. Throughout the years, he would get a sudden illness for a few days before it disappeared. Even if Panem was the country representing these Districts, it was still America's citizens, his economy, his home. The thought of having to kill his citizens had America feeling nauseous.

The nation checked the time. 4:23 AM. America knew if he fell asleep again, he would have PTSD nightmares or a memory of his friends. He had already counted a few. The play fights with Russia, Canada visiting him when he was younger whenever England had to go out on business trips, France and England fighting for his land and now the economic illness England had. He also had nightmares of wars like the Revolutionary War, the Cold War, World War I, World War II and World War III.

America hated the third World War, that was the war when Panem rose and killed his friends and captured their citizens. America took a deep breath and lied down on the bed. He stared at the steel ceiling before he started humming a tune, The Star-Spangled Banner, the national anthem of the United States of America. One tune turned into more as he hummed the older American anthems before moving on to hum the anthems of other countries.

When America had finished humming, he stayed silent for what feels like an eternity before there was a loud knock on his door, "Come in." America replied, trying to brighten his voice. The door slid open and Effie Trinket was standing there with her usual jolly smile.

"Rise and shine, dear! We're almost at the Capitol." Effie pulled apart the curtains and America winced as the bright sun rays shined straight into his eyes. Being away from District 12 made America feel slightly better since he didn't have to watch everyone starve to death, die from accidents or virtually anything else, but he's not turning a blind eye away from them. America promised to never make the same mistakes as his bosses did a long time ago.

America ambled down the thin corridor with Effie in front of him to the dining room. He had skipped dinner last night but today he should probably eat something. America looked around the room and saw Katniss talking to their new mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. He quietly said hello to Katniss and Haymitch before sitting down next to Haymitch, doing his best to avoid Katniss. America ate a small amount of breakfast, he couldn't stuff himself right now like before.

"If you want to win, you need to be likeable." America overheard Haymitch tell Katniss, "You have to be likeable to get sponsors and, right now, you're anything but that, sweetheart." He could see Katniss fuming from the corners of his eyes. Haymitch then turned to look at America.

"Same thing can be said to you, you need to show a personality other than just indifference." Haymitch sighed.

"I wasn't always like this." America laughed, "I used to be more bubbly, cheerful and happy."

Katniss stopped eating and looked at America suspiciously. He didn't understand why she was so suspicious. When was the last time he lied? He didn't remember.

"Well for your own survival, we need you to go back to your old self. If you can." Haymitch said that last sentence with sympathy in his eyes. He knew from experience himself that when something happens that changes a person, it's extremely difficult to go back.

After a few minutes of talking, the train arrived at the Capitol, slowly stopping. America internally laughed, he'd suffered so much worse than this and afterwards he'd always come back with a giant grin and lighthearted self. Honestly, it didn't matter if he had any sort of sponsors. Throughout his experience and his immortality, he doesn't need them. He had survived decades without food, sleep, water and shelter before. But, he smiled anyway, surprising Katniss and Haymitch, "I'll do my best, I'm the hero after all." He muttered the last words. America stood up and gave his full attention to the crowd outside the windows. He gave them a grin, showing his white teeth while waving.

"Isn't he a natural." Haymitch chuckled. He eyed Katniss before taking another swig of vodka, "You should learn from him, sweetheart." She glared at Haymitch.

America waved a goodbye at his prep team left the room. They were an unusual but funny bunch. They didn't do much to America, maybe just bathe him rather harshly, did a bit of shaving and that was just about it. He knew that the female tributes are given more care like the removal of body hair and such, he had heard enough beauty rants from France to know all this shit.

The door opened and America looked up to greet his stylist when his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. His stylist standing in front of him was France. It was France. Francis Bonnefoy. The Republic of France. The actual country.

"Bonjour, Amérique."