A/N: Thanks again to all my followers and reviewers! I'm so glad people like this story so far. It might be a while before I can update again, thanks to the start of school, but I'll try my best to do so as soon as possible.

Enjoy!

Chapter Four

"I need your help, as soon as possible. It's important."

Canada blinked sleepily and glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand.

"Alfred, do you know how early it is?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry, but I really need you right now," America answered, worry clear in his voice. Now fully alert, Canada frowned in concern as he swung his feet out of bed.

"What's wrong?"

"…I don't think I can explain it over the phone. Actually, I don't think I should. The line might not be secure…" Canada heard America mutter on the other end. Canada knew that if America was being this paranoid about it, whatever the issue was, it had to be serious.

"Do you need me to come?" Canada asked.

"Can you?" America asked hopefully. "I'll pay for expenses and everything. If you need a jet, I've got a-"

"Its fine, Alfred," Canada cut him off. "I can handle it. What time do you want me to be there?"

"As soon as you can."

"Alright. The latest I'll be in D.C. is this afternoon."

"Thanks, Mattie." The relief was palpable in America's voice.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"This had better be freaking important."

"…It is," America said grimly. "Just keep me updated on your flight. I gotta go, bye!"

He hung up. Canada stared at his phone, unsure what to make of the conversation he'd just had. One thing was clear, though. He had to get to Washington. Sighing, the Canadian looked up his contacts list. If he was going to make this work, he had a few calls of his own to make.

Meanwhile, America strode into the White House. Everyone he passed easily recognized him, and he had no difficulty making his way to the Oval Office. Hesitating just outside the doors, America considered what he would say. After trying and failing to think of an explanation that wouldn't sound ridiculous, he decided to just wing it. Squaring his shoulders, America strode confidently inside room as if he owned it. It was vacant except for the President, who merely sighed with annoyance and didn't even bother looking up over his giant pile of paperwork.

"America? What are you doing here? Didn't you finish your work?"

"I did, but something's come up."

Something in America's tone caught the President's attention, and he straightened in his chair, meeting the nation's serious gaze.

"This isn't a social call," the President realized. America shook his head.

"Unfortunately, no."

"Is this a matter of national security?" the President asked bluntly.

"Yes."

"Start talking."

"I believe Washington D.C. has been personified."

The President stared.

"…Isn't that impossible?"

"I thought it was, but apparently it's not," America admitted.

"How do you know?" the President asked skeptically. America was not fazed by the man's apparent disbelief.

"I'm a nation. I am the United States of America. I can sense these things. My capital is my heart. I think I would know it when I found it."

"Are you absolutely sure this… individual, is in fact a personification?"

"I have never been so sure of anything in my life."

"And do you know that they are Washington D.C.?"

"Like I know that the sky is blue," America declared in certainty.

For the second time that morning, the President heaved a sigh. He rubbed his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on.

"But for God's sakes why? Why would the capital be personified, and why now of all times?" the President wondered in despair, inwardly envisioning another version of Alfred wreaking havoc in the White House.

"I don't know for sure, but… I have a feeling some higher powers were involved." The President stifled a groan of resignation, and resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk.

"Alright. Where is this person? What are they like?" the President asked. He figured he'd save himself more time and trouble if he just skipped trying to discover the how and why of the situation, and instead focused on what needed to be done. That was one of the first things he'd learned to do when he began working with Alfred.

"Well, she seemed young. Couldn't have been out of high school. Um… average height, brown hair, blue eyes," America described.

The President rolled his eyes.

"That's all well and good, Alfred, but what's her name?"

"I don't know."

"…"

"…"

"…Well, where is she?"

"That's the problem, Mr. President. I don't know."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T KNOW?!"

And that was how the U.S. government was thrown in complete and utter disarray.

By noon later that day, Canada was lugging his suitcase and pet polar bear up to the front steps of America's private house in D.C. He knocked, but didn't have to wait long as the door was practically ripped open almost instantly.

"MATTIE!"

Canada stumbled backwards, but couldn't help but smile at being unexpectedly glomped by his twin.

"Nice to see you too, Alfred," he chuckled.

"Bro, it's been so long!" America beamed, stepping back.

"Actually, we met at the World Meeting only a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, but it felt like forever!"

Canada's smile slipped as he remembered his original purpose in coming.

"What's this all about, Alfred? It took ages to get clearance for my jet to land. Your government's all in a tizzy!"

"Ha, you said 'tizzy'!"

"Alfred."

"Sorry," America sighed, his expression turning downcast. "It's just I'm tired of being serious. I've been serious literally all day. It sucks, man. Anyway, come on inside," he said, opening the door wider to let Canada in.

"I'll drop off your stuff in the guest room," America continued, picking up the giant suitcase despite Canada's protests. "Feel free to take a seat in the living room, you know where it is. Seriously, though. Take a seat. You won't want to be standing..." With that, the American bounded off into the far reaches of the house, hauling the suitcase with him.

Canada shrugged helplessly and made his way to the small living room. Kumajiro followed. Canada sat down on the far end of the couch, and Kumajiro lay down on the floor by his feet. The two waited patiently, until America returned a moment later. Flopping into the recliner opposite the couch, America let his true exhaustion show. Canada frowned as he studied his brother.

"You look awful," he said frankly. America groaned, covering his face.

"I know. I didn't get any sleep last night, and I wasn't able to crash this morning like I planned."

"And what, may I ask, did you spend the morning doing? You still haven't told me what's going on."

America sat up and met Canada's gaze.

"Look, Mattie. Before I get started, I'm gonna tell you right off the bat that I have no idea how or why this has happened. So don't bother asking. And please, no questions until I'm done, or else we'll both still be here by Christmas."

Canada nodded in agreement, leaning forward in his seat to listen intently as America launched into an account of everything that had happened. Unlike with the President, America left nothing out when speaking to his brother. This meant that Canada learned all about Native America's visit and instructions to America in full detail. The story was finished with the mysterious vanishing of the girl, and America's subsequent conversation with the President of the United States. When America finally stopped talking, Canada sat back and stared at his brother in stunned silence for a long moment, until at last he found his voice.

"Good God, Alfred. What are you going to do?"

America slumped in his seat.

"I have no idea, Mattie. I guess that's why I called you," the young nation admitted.

"Hmm… I suppose the first thing that needs to be done is to find this girl. Do you have any idea where to start looking?" Canada asked.

"Zero. Zip. Nada."

"That's not very helpful, Alfred," Canada chastised, sending the American a longsuffering glare.

"Weeeellll…" America drawled thoughtfully. "She did tell someone- or something- to take her home, just before she vanished."

"It sounds like magic was involved," Canada decided.

"Dude, magic doesn't exist."

"Can you really believe that after everything's that happened?" Canada prodded skeptically. America scowled.

"…I guess not."

"That's what I thought. You know, we should probably get the help of someone who's good with magic. They might have a better idea of what to do."

"Hey, Iggy's always going on about magic! We should call him!" America exclaimed, brightening immediately.

"That's fine, but I'm calling England- not you," Canada said sternly, lunging to grab the cellphone America had just fished out of his pocket.

"Why?" America pouted, but nevertheless gave up the phone to Canada's possession.

"Because he'll never take you seriously."