AN: Another sluggish update, but no need to worry. Summer is on the horizon and updates will definitely be more frequent. Thank you for your continued support and please feel free to leave a review. :)

"Unbelievable."

Feeling his senses return to him with a furious insistence, America swiped at his eyes and pulled himself out of his groggy state, sitting up against the familiar tree trunk. After a few half-hearted blinks, he suddenly became aware of an icy wetness spreading across his hands and looked up toward the sky, groaning involuntarily as he watched the snowflakes hover above before collecting on the stolen jacket that he was still dressed in.

"It's snowing," he stated mournfully, rolling his head to the side to see Canada sitting against the tree across from him, alert albeit noticeably weary.

"I know," Canada replied, shivering violently as he regarded the thin, flannel hospital clothes that they were clad in. "We need to move or we're going to freeze out here."

America scoffed, rubbing his hands together briskly for warmth. "It's too late for that," he finally griped after a long pause, shifting around to get a better look at Sealand, who was still contentedly snoozing the day away. With a mischievous smirk, America shook the boy's shoulder roughly. "Peter…Peter, come on. Sealand, we've gotta go. God, now I know what Arthur has to deal with. Get up!"

The boy only grumbled in a distressed manner, thrashing momentarily before settling down again.

"Why do you all do that? Call each other by weird names? Are they nicknames?" Canada asked mildly as America continued to lose what little patience he had left, considering he hadn't had his coffee and was certainly not a morning person.

Hesitantly, America scrunched up his face ever so slightly and replied, "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Sealand, I swear I'm going to—"

"How do you know me?"

Feeling that pang of hurt hit him in the gut once more, America sighed, wishing that Canada would stop asking the same questions over and over again. "We've known each other since we've been kids, all right? Look, don't even worry about it for now, okay? You'll just get even more confused than you already are."

"I'm not confused! You make it sound like I'm sick or something!" Canada defended, looking insulted. "Just because I don't remember who you are—"

"Sealand, dude, I'm not playing around anymore," America conceded, desperately searching for an excuse to ignore Canada's pestering. "You're gonna get hypothermia or something out here. Sealand?"

Frowning, Canada stood up and approached the pair by the opposite tree, crouching to examine the boy's unresponsive figure. Gently, he lifted one of the boy's hands, eliciting a hiss from America, who realized that the child's nails were turning into an ugly shade of blue.

"Shit, shit, shit," America muttered, panic setting in as he scrambled to stand up. He took off his jacket in one swift movement, dressing Sealand in it and wrapping him in all of the blankets they had before hefting him up and into his arms. "What are we going to do?"

Calmly, Canada brought two fingers up to the boy's neck, feeling along the skin beneath his ear and jaw to find a pulse. "He's got a pulse and he's still breathing. We need to get ourselves a warm place to stay or start a fire."

"We can't start a fire, we're not far enough from the hospital yet. We'll be caught."

"We're going to get caught either way! We had our trackers on for the majority of the night. It's pointless to try to run now," Canada reasoned, wiping some snow off of his arms. "I'm surprised they haven't taken us back yet."

"Maybe there's still some kind of chaos going on in the hospital, so they haven't noticed our disappearance."

"I doubt it. They know that we have no idea what we're doing, so they're probably not in a rush to come and get us."

America tightened his grasp around Sealand, biting his lip as he tried to figure out a way to get them out of the maze of trees. "Well, that brings up an important question," he murmured, through clenched teeth. "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Well, obviously it's someplace cold and deserted."

"Kinda like good ol' Canada, huh?" America whispered under his breath, unable to hold back the jibe despite his brother's obliviousness.

Not hearing the other man, Canada continued, unfazed. "I'm surprised that we survived the night."

"I'm not, it'd take more than some cold air to take out two fully grown nat—nature lovers," America amended hastily, inwardly groaning at his own slip-up. As nations, they would be able to withstand colder temperatures than most humans, but even they had their breaking points. "Don't you just love nature, Mattie? Sure, it's kicking our butts right now, but look how beautiful the snow is even as it kills us slowly."

"How tragically poetic," Canada noted, though slightly taken aback by America's strange behavior. "So, what do you suggest we do? I think we should just hand ourselves over and hope we're not treated too harshly."

"Well, that's definitely not an option. This is why I'm the one in charge; I'd rather die than surrender to those psychos. We're going to find a town to stay in."

"That's stupid, they'll expect us to go into town. They'll ambush us."

"We can take them on."

"Idiot."

And for a moment, America felt something inside him flutter as he bickered with his brother, feeling like they were at home and just going out for a stroll in some Canadian snow without the meddling politics of it all getting involved. He smiled crookedly, once again not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the circumstances. Making up his mind, he waved a hand for Canada to follow before trudging onward through the dense pine trees.

"I'm not going into some town!"

"We're not going to, we just need to get out of these stupid trees! There has to be a way out of here…Hang in there, Sealand."

Surrendering to yet another one of America's poorly thought-out plans, Canada lagged behind the man, a feeling a dread stirring in the pit of his stomach as he took in the freezing climate with concern. He wasn't as cold as he expected to be, shocked by his body's own strength and resistance as he trailed behind the man wordlessly, just close enough to catch America's hushed whispers.

"Stay with me, Sealand. No man gets left behind."

Stubborn souls were always the ones to make it out alive, or so England believed as he laid sprawled on a hospital bed, arms bound by restraints that were seemingly indestructible. He let his eyes scour the researchers and doctors in the room like a predator hungry for some prey, daring them to step closer.

"It was a fun ride, Mr. Kirkland. I can assure you that even I will feel a bit wistful after your departure from coherence," the board director spoke with a steady tone, standing at the end of the bed. "Is there anything that you'd like to say in finality? We'll go to great extents to ensure that your legacy is carried out."

England glared at the man, hands dangling limply from either side of the bed's railings. He would not give these men the satisfaction of hearing him speak. If he was going to be subjected to years of unconsciousness, then he might as well go out knowing that he had not shown any fear, only defiance.

"If you don't mind, I'd like a moment alone with Mr. Kirkland," the director stated, addressing the researchers. "I'll be only a moment."

Obediently, the doctors and scientists filed out of the room, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. Then, the director turned back to face England tauntingly.

"Hmm… Cat got your tongue? Well then, I do have something to say, seeing as every man deserves to know the truth before death—or as close to death as they will ever be. You see, Mr. Kirkland, you're nothing but an anomaly to be experimented with. In actuality, your government sold you. They sold you to us and here we are, trying to extract some value out of you and others like you in order to benefit the world. We've been paid to solve political problems through you. The original plan went a little something like this; got a stagnant economy? We'll take your personification and kick start their system with amphetamines. Global warming is melting your glaciers? We'll keep your personification in an icebox."

"It's obvious how the experiment ended up being a failure, I suppose. We learned the hard way that changing a personification doesn't impact the state of the actual country and its landmass. Only the landmass and the people living there can impact the personification, and it doesn't work in the reverse fashion. I can't freeze you to change the climate in Britain. No, the connection doesn't work in such a way. However, if there's a blizzard in Britain, you'll be sure to catch a cold or hypothermia."

"Needless to say, the game-plan had to be altered. After all, the world's governments spent so much money investing in our experiments only for them to be left empty-handed, and they wouldn't settle for that. So, we decided to find new purposes for your existence. If we couldn't use you to change the status of political issues, then perhaps we could use your immortality to our benefit."

The director grinned widely, his misshapen teeth showing. "And this is where things become interesting. If we could find out why and how personifications stay relatively invincible, could we recreate those genes and that biological makeup in humans? Imagine how great it would be to have immortal men fighting on battlefields and being sent to dangerous locations to save those with lives that are so fragile. What if we finally found a way to save the terminally ill? Or a way to ensure that human existence does not fade away into extinction? Who wouldn't want that?"

"You are nothing more than a chess-piece in a much larger game, Mr. Kirkland. We own you now, and we plan to do whatever we can to make sure that we are successful in our findings. You are our lab rat."

England felt himself seething with rage, but bit his tongue to keep silent. There was still hope that America, Canada, and Sealand had made it out of the area safely, and that they were going to call for help. And well, if one life had to be sacrificed for that cause, then so be it. He'd gladly offer himself up as tribute now that he had aided in the others' escape. He trusted that America wouldn't go down without a fight, and knowing that bull-headed man, he was going to protect Sealand and Canada with every last ounce of strength.

"It's unfortunate that your story had to come to an end this way, but you can rest assured knowing that you benefitted the sometimes controversial findings of science. I'm afraid this is goodbye for now, Mr. Kirkland."

And with that, the director stepped out of the room to allow the researchers to take over, disappearing behind the door as England waited composedly for the others to return.

Without even a greeting, a tall and gangly doctor with a crooked nose walked into the room, meeting England's eyes before offering him a nervous, half-hearted smile. He withdrew a syringe from his coat pocket and filled it with some type of substance from a little jar before plunging it into the muscle of England's upper arm.

Shuddering, England waited for the effects to set in, wondering when the cliché action of his 'life flashing before his eyes' would take place. Seconds turned into a full minute, and still England felt absolutely nothing. Furrowing his brows, he looked at the doctor quizzically, but the man with the crooked nose only shot him a solemn expression that warned against commentary.

Realizing that he was supposed to play along, England merely closed his eyes, waiting to see what would happen next.

After another few uneventful minutes, he felt his hands being freed from the restraints as someone helped him shakily sit up. Deeming it safe to open his eyes again, he felt his heartbeat quicken as the man with the crooked nose gave him a thoughtful look.

"Congrats, you've started a revolution. You might just make it out of here all right."

"It never ends does it? This stupid wasteland of freaking snow," America said rather loudly into the nothingness of the landscape. Fortunately, they had managed to abandon the canopy of pine trees and were now moving to higher ground, trekking up a series of hills to get a better idea of their surroundings.

"How much farther are you going to drag us?"

"As far as we have to go to ensure our safety," he droned to his brother, who had been making constant attempts to hinder their hiking by insisting that they start forming a more permanent camp. Sealand was still unconscious in his arms, and though America wouldn't acknowledge it, Canada could tell that his concern for the younger boy was growing with each passing minute.

"Frankly, I'm exhausted, so I think I'll just hang out here while you go and get yourself killed."

"You're not allowed to just stay behind."

"Oh, really? I think my odds of surviving would have been better if I'd stayed in the hospital."

America felt his patience thinning once more, mostly due to the fact that he was feeling rather fatigued himself, and carrying the weight of the boy in his arms was growing increasingly more difficult, much to his surprise.

Canada seemed to notice this as well, taking in America's laborious breathing as he struggled to keep the pace that they'd been keeping for the last few hours. The blue eyes were now rather unfocused and glassy, frantically shifting around as if some sort of sanctuary might finally present itself.

"Gotta find shelter…"

"Stop. Just please stop it already," Canada pleaded, teeth chattering as he attempted to shake some of the snow out of his hair. "We're doomed. It's over. Just let us die in peace already. I need a moment to reminisce on my life choices."

America managed a smirk at Canada's theatrics, making the final back-breaking trudges toward the top of one of the hills that they had found themselves on. Canada now refused to budge, running his hands over his face and muttering something sentimental as America took in the new view before him. He dropped to his knees and laughed heartily, gently cradling Sealand as he looked out upon the expansive region.

"How could you possibly be laughing at a time like this?" Canada exclaimed in an insulted manner. "We're freezing to death and all you can do is laugh?"

Still hiccupping with unsuppressed laughter, America turned his head in Canada's general direction and called to him from above.

"Get up here, you sissy!"

Canada frowned as his expression grew ferocious, storming up the side of the hill to smack America upside the head roughly. "What is wrong with you? You're a complete maniac!"

"Matthew—"

"You dragged me all the way over here along with this poor child and then you—"

"Matt—"

"—treat our predicament so lightly. You're an utter stranger and I was stupid enough to follow your lead when—"

"Mattie!"

"I obviously wasn't using my proper judgment—"

"Could you shut up already?"

"What is it?" Canada shouted at him, blind with rage as America wore a stupid grin on his face. He poised himself to strangle the other man, arms already stretched out for an attack until America pointed toward the distance.

"Look!"

Canada let his eyes follow the trembling finger out of sheer curiosity. Soon, his scowl diminished and was replaced by a kind of paralytic catharsis.

Miles upon miles of snow-capped mountains covered the earth in a jagged tiling while the sun illuminated the snow to the point where the valley of polar terrain seemed to sparkle. An enormous seascape of lakes surrounded the impressive region in all its glory, kissing the foundations of rock.

Taking hold of Canada's limp arm, America pointed toward a spot below their meager little hill. "What do you see there?"

Cocking his head to the side and squinting, Canada tried to figure out what America wanted him to notice to no avail.

Again, America chuckled at him, making him feel like an underling upon missing something that was probably clear and obvious.

"See that cube of white? If you look carefully you can notice the faint outline of an antenna on the top. That's our safe haven, Mattie—it's some kind of broadcasting station."

Now that he thought about it, he could make out the vague outline of a cabin, but it was encased in such a large amount of snow that he never would've paid it any mind had America not pointed it out to him.

"And I thought my eyesight was bad," America joked, smearing a hand over his glasses, which were caked with melting snow. "Let's hurry, it's not too far from here."

"I doubt that anyone will be there to help us. Judging by the blizzard, no one is crazy enough to be out here but us," Canada forewarned, following America's lead yet again.

"Finding a human is the least of our concerns right now," America assured, lowering his head toward Sealand's chest to make sure that he was still breathing. "Hop to it, Matt."

Canada grumbled unhappily under his breath, "You're still a lunatic."

Thankfully, trekking downhill was far easier than the walking they'd been doing all day, and both men could feel their bodies growing lighter and relieved as the shoddy cabin moved closer and closer into their paths. The heavens must have decided to grace them with a blessing, seeing as they actually managed to reach their makeshift shelter just as the sun was beginning to set in the sky.

"Is it just me or does this place hardly get any hours of sunlight? It's dark for most of the day," America observed as they dragged themselves through the final few yards of their journey. Just one final trail around the lake and they'd be at their destination.

Canada shrugged as they began to slow their walking, admiring the glittering lake that reflected the splendor of the snowcaps above. "I guess that gives us another hint—" he cut his statement short, suddenly feeling sick.

"Hmm?" America ceased his jubilant stroll of optimism, spinning around to face Canada with an expression of confusion. "What's wrong?" he asked, forehead creased.

Canada stood at the lake's edge, staring at his reflection solemnly. Cautiously, he raised a hand up to his temple, pushing back some hair.

"Matt?"

"I look like you," Canada said slowly, standing frighteningly still. "Why do I look like you?"

America momentarily lost his voice, opening his mouth to explain only to close it again due to his own bewildered state.

"We're practically identical, aside from the hair and eyes."

America nodded in confirmation, not knowing what else to do. "Your eyes are slightly darker…You didn't remember what you looked like?"

Canada shook his head, slumping over before lowering himself to the ground, feeling unsteady on his feet. "Let me get this straight… I was in a hospital that conducted some kind of insane experiments, and then I got stuck with you, a person who looks exactly like me and has some kind of superhuman traits."

America stood silently, tightening his grasp around Sealand as the snow began to calm its icy crusade.

"Are you my clone or something?"

He just about lost it then, breaking out into another fit of uncontrollable laughter as he struggled to catch his breath. Nonetheless, he felt the familiar lump in his throat as his eyes burned once more, feeling broken at the fact that his brother held no memories of all of the moments that they once cherished together: their first meeting, climbing trees, playing in England's closet, gaining their independence, and more.

"I'm not your clone, dummy. I'm your brother—twin brother to be specific. And I'm not the only one with superhuman powers. Haven't you considered why your blood hasn't turned to ice yet? You're different too, and I know that you still feel it. You can never shake the feeling of being a nation—it's an inherent sense.

"Why are you going on about that mindless nation stuff again? What is that even supposed to mean? Who am I?" Canada demanded, standing to his full height and looking rather intimidating as he pursued a proper and full length answer.

America sighed, glancing cravingly at the cabin just a few meters away. "As I've been trying to tell you, you're Canada—the personification of Canada anyway. Listen, I'll explain everything once we get out of this damned snow, deal?"

"Fine," Canada agreed begrudgingly, mostly due to the fact that it felt as though the cold was seeping into his bones.

Not hesitating in moving on, America surged forward, finally reaching the cabin with unprecedented joy and relief before kicking the door open forcefully and inviting himself in. Canada hovered behind, shutting the door with a resounding and magnificent "thunk".

Wasting no time, America ventured further into the cabin, dropping Sealand off on the dilapidated leather couch before making his way toward the tiny fireplace. He groaned upon finding that there was hardly any wood left in the hearth, but that could easily be remedied.

"Okay, let's get some firewood, and buckets of snow that we can melt into water."

Canada considered the contents of the cabin instead, noticing the small desk with some kind of archaic boxes of…some kind of technology that looked as if they had been left untouched for decades. He doubted they'd be able to contact anyone via radio from here, but he decided to leave that revelation unsaid. He watched tiredly as America stepped back into the outside, collecting scattered branches and logs in record-worthy time before returning and setting his treasures into the dusty hearth.

He flourished the trusty messenger bag that had been slung across his shoulder, rummaging through it swiftly before pulling out the lighter that they had resisted using previously despite its appeal. Carefully, so as not to burn himself, America lit one of the branches, stepping back as the fireplace roared with life once more.

"Jesus Christ, something has finally gone right," America muttered with a contented sigh. He picked up the discarded cellphone once more, unsurprisingly finding that they still lacked signal, even from the radio broadcast cabin. Obviously, the place had been abandoned ages ago. Nonetheless, they still had a hand-powered radio, and perhaps that might work, though America highly doubted their odds.

He sat down in front of the fireplace and began winding up the device, motioning for Canada to join him.

"Now, I think it's time I give you that explanation that you've wanted, so here goes nothing. Matt, we're personifications of actual landmasses, which is why I'm called America and you're called Canada," America announced in his best neutral lilt. He awkwardly shifted his legs beneath him, realizing that he was terrible at explaining such matters.

"No one's sure about the exact reason for our existence, which I assume is why this shady board of researchers got together to investigate our case and formed that makeshift hospital that we were held captive in. They then tricked us into joining in on their stupid experiments with the help of our governments. It was foggy in my memory for a while too, but now I know why I 'volunteered' to assist them. Now, I don't know what they did to you or what they gave you, but they somehow managed to wipe away all your memories of me and the other nations."

Canada frowned for the umpteenth time, casting America a suspicious glare. "How do I know that you're not lying to me? What if you're the one whose brain got fried?"

"I know it sounds very science-fiction-esque right now, but I can promise you that I'm telling you the truth. Like I said, I'm your brother, and well, brothers never turn their backs on one another, right?" America queried with a cheesy little smile, prodding Canada in the ribs playfully. "I'm gonna get this sorted out if it's the last thing I do, Canada. You can count on me."

Canada folded his arms, scooting closer to the fire. "So, my name's not Matthew?"

"Well, Matthew is your human name… It's the name you use in public as an alias of sorts. My human name is Alfred, but you sometimes call me Al. But hey, call me whatever you want, I'm not picky," America clarified, quelling Canada's fears.

Then, America stood up and roamed back to Sealand, pleased to find that his body temperature was already rising and he seemed to be regaining the flush in his cheeks. The regenerative powers of nations always astonished him, and even though Sealand wasn't nearly as strong as Canada or himself, he was still surprisingly resilient.

"Our little brat's gonna be all right," America informed with as much cheer as he could muster. "I never noticed how much he looks like England…"

Canada felt his spirits bolster upon witnessing that the child in their misfit trio was in a stable condition, but the questions that haunted him made him feel uncomfortable and frightened all over again. "You always talk about England. He's a personification too, right? Do I know him?"

"Know him?" America asked incredulously, voice rising and tone growing more enthusiastic. "Of course you do! You were his colony, after all. Don't you know any world history?"

Canada blushed in a flustered manner, pursing his lips. "W-Well, yeah, but I didn't want to assume—"

"Think about it this way, anything that's happened in a nation's history, has affected their personification in some way. You and I were colonies of the personification of England because that's what happened historically. Get it?" America said plainly, trying to possibly jump-start Canada's lost memories.

Canada could feel a migraine forming at the front of his head already. "This is too much… I can't think straight."

"Sorry, you're right," America consoled, looming over Sealand again. "I'm overwhelming you. I'll melt some of that snow so we can stay hydrated and then we can sleep. It's been a chaotic day."

"We need to work on getting a source of food too."

America scoffed, waving the suggestion off in dismissal. "We have time to gather food. We can survive without food for a good amount of time—longer than a human can. Hell, during the Civil War I hardly ate anything at all for nearly four years."

"F-Four years?" Canada repeated with a growing sense of nausea. "Would I be able to do that too?"

America nodded jovially, seemingly oblivious to Canada's horror. "Sure, eating is more of something that we do for pleasure rather than absolute necessity. I mean, we have to eat eventually, and some nations last longer than others, but considering our size and power, we'll be able to brave it out. Sealand on the other hand, well, we'll find something to sustain him."

Canada merely nodded once more and felt himself dozing off right there on the filthy carpet, muscles relaxing and thoughts wafting away until he felt someone shoving an old porcelain cup into his hands full of tepid water.

"Drink, Mattie," America insisted. "Even we can't last long without water."

Obligingly, Canada did as instructed, downing the contents before passing the cup back to America and settling down once more, finally feeling at peace in the knowledge that he could trust the other man who claimed to be his sibling.

'History,' he thought, trying to recall any remembrance of the status of the world at large. Why was he stuck in this sense of never-ending amnesia?

It was a horrible feeling, he ultimately realized, to be completely unaware of one's roots and origins—robbed of one's purpose.

'History… Where has all my history gone?'