"Truly speaking, it is not instruction, but provocation, that I can receive from another soul. What he announces, I must find true in me, or reject; and on his word, or as his second, be he who he may, I can accept nothing."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Portable Emerson

The streets of New York were always full of life as mustard yellow taxis rushed through ongoing traffic, brightly painted signs encouraged buyers for everything from food to fashion brands, and the general public sped up their pace in a decent attempt to arrive on time to school or work. Cyclists maneuvered through the public congestion with ease as they also past by a young, brownish-blonde haired male who grinned and waved over to them sociably.

The sides of his rough denim jeans brushed up against each other while he pressed on past the crowds with unsuppressed vigor. The frames of his glasses were sturdy against his face, so bright with optimism, and his Superman t-shirt seemed to ripple in the wind like the cape of the acclaimed superhero. He was on his way back home to play some Call of Duty with his pal Tony, who was probably already binging on the ice cream he had gotten the night before for their next gaming session.

It was going to be so awesome!

The young man practically jumped down the busy subway stairs with uncontainable excitement as quickly as possible, bought his ticket, and sat on the bench in rising anticipation. It was about noon, so he guessed that the various groups of people getting on or off the subway were probably taking their lunch break right about now. However, upon that thought, his stomach growled in a hefty response.

"Aw man, that sucks." America sighed as he patted it gently and looked around. There had to be a food cart or something around here . . .

However, he had to pause in his search for food as he noticed a teen swinging his legs while sitting on a nearby bench. At first, he didn't think much of it, but as time passed on, he watched the kid let out a long breath as he held his forehead and stared quietly at the ground. He didn't seem to have a parent nearby, and he seemed a little too anxious from scanning the area constantly with a deep look of exasperation on his face.

Now, most countries knew that America wasn't exactly the best at reading the atmosphere. And it was true. Ever since he was a little kid, he tended to listen to what his emotional impulses were saying, rather then logic and careful reasoning. Pretty much all of the nations thought that he just had the inability to do so, when in reality, he just chose not to in an attempt to try and lighten the mood whenever possible. There was always so much fighting and grief between all of them that he constantly tried to be the one person that could bring in some laughter, even at his own expense.

But this time, there was something about that kid that was particularly bothering him . . .

America stood up slowly and put his hands in his pockets, but decided that his first order of business was to get something to eat from a nearby pretzel stand. However, he also didn't take his gaze off of the lone teenager for one moment as he purchased his snacks, and then approached him. The nation sat down next to the youth, who tried to casually ignore the stranger, who bit down enjoyably on the soft, cheesy goodness of his pretzel.

But his attention was immediately brought back to him as he felt his shoulder being nudged. He turned his head around and was surprised to see the older man holding another steaming pretzel in his hand generously. "Hey," America grinned. "I have an extra one. Do you want it, dude?"

"What's the catch?" the teen asked suspiciously. People didn't just give away food like that to kids without having other motives in mind.

"Nothing. I just don't need to get even more fat!" America laughed in his usual, over the top and loud manner. "But if you don't want it, that's cool too."

The young teen still looked skeptical, but he was starving. For all he knew, this weirdo could be trying to rape or kidnap him, and he had drugged that pretzel he was offering. But it looked harmless enough. And then again, he was probably going to die out here anyway, and did it really matter how? At least he would have had something to eat in the past few days . . .

He took the pretzel and completely devoured it, thankful that at least it didn't seem to taste abnormal.

America grinned and leaned back in his seat lazily. "So, what're you doing out here?"

The guy paused as he finished up the salty treat, but decided to keep quiet as he crossed his arms and looked away into the distance.

"Got a name?" he tried with the same, encouraging grin.

"Jace."

"Cool! Are you waiting for your parents or something?" he asked curiously with another laugh. "Because dude, you're way more patient than I am! I'd probably be twitching on the floor already!"

The teen looked up wearily with a little bit of annoyance, and then looked back down at his lap. "Don't have any . . . " the teen muttered to himself as he went back to ignoring America.

The US faltered as he stared at the silent teenager for a long time. There was something about him that was nagging America in the back of his mind like England when he was doing something that the jerky limey said was stupid. And then, he finally realized why he had been so interested in the troubled youth. It was the detachment from everything around him displayed on his face, the cold sweat collecting on his palms—and, most recognizably—the cold, but also burning determination and defiance in his eyes.

America smiled a little though, and tried to look like he was keeping to himself too as he stretched out on the bench casually. "So, how long ago did you make a break for it?" he asked.

The teen stiffened and didn't even give a moment to look shocked before bolting off of the bench, and making another run for it. He wasn't going back home, even if it killed him. His life was hell enough already, it would only get worse with time.

"Hey!" America yelled as he shot up to his feet and dashed after him in a burst of speed. "Dude, hold up! I'm not going to call the cops!"

Unfortunately, he tuned out the nation's shouts of insistence as he hurried onto the tracks, and shot down them like a bullet. He was panting heavily, but he didn't dare slow down as he heard numerous patrons yelling at him and calling for security. He was clued in enough about the subways to know his way around them, all he'd have to do is—

Just then, the distant sounds of a scream were heard as the ground trembled beneath him. Jace turned around in horror as a train tore down the tunnel rapidly, moving faster than he could even think as he ran even quicker with a dry whimper erupting from his throat. He tried to get himself up above the tracks, but his arms seemed to be like jelly as panic took ahold of him. The train drew even nearer with the ground shaking even more violently as he just about heard his final goodbyes in his mind, along with the horns blowing loudly.

Security rushed over to the scene a moment too late as America shoved past them to keep them at bay. "Sir, stay away from the tracks!" an officer shouted above the chaos of the subway as he and the other security guards tried to keep everyone calm.

"Keep everyone else safe, I've got this!" America responded unwaveringly with his voice resonating off of the walls of the enclosed area. The disarray all around him was blasting in his ears, and the self-proclaimed hero had to give a serious effort to try to even concentrate through the cacophony of mayhem. His hands were starting to shake horribly, but he was determined to get this kid to safety no matter what the cost.

Just as Jace was about to give up, something dropped down beside him, and he whirled around in shock. To his absolute shock, America was right there and had his arms wrapped around the teen's waist securely with a firm, but still somehow confident look. Without a moment to waste, he shoved the teen up with an astounding amount of upper body strength that was enough to heave him up into the air, and then over the tracks to safety.

The train behind them blew a final warning call as America threw himself between the tracks in a final act of protection while holding his ears from the deafening sounds of the train passing over him. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as he shut his eyes underneath the dark, cold shadow of the passing public transportation, while also being mindful not to go anywhere near the third bar. He knew that Jace hadn't meant to put him in this situation, and it had just been a reaction in a moment of fear.

Just like that day . . .

He felt his chest start to hurt as the pitch blackness of the train closed in on him. It sort of reminded him back to the days of when he'd be so scared of the dark, England would have to come and comfort him in his bed until he fell asleep. Even though they were still friends, he couldn't help but feel like their relationship was strained ever since he had broke away from him to become his own nation. Sometimes, he found himself just wanting to hear him say a warm word of support, or sympathy during some rough times.

He was still afraid of the dark, but didn't have a big brother to comfort him anymore . . .

When everything finally came to pass, America rose up to his feet with a bit of a stagger as everyone stared at him in absolute alarm, and then promptly broke out into an uproarious round of applause for his heroism. He smiled and waved (albeit a little shakily) as he shook off some security guards by insisting that he was fine, and to take care of Jace instead as he made a quick run to the bathroom.

The nation, who so many times in the past had pronounced himself the hero, shut the door behind him and ran a hand through his hair to try and relax. He couldn't believe what had just happened, or could have happened to one of his citizens if he hadn't been there. The thought was enough to twist his stomach in a knot as he turned on the sink and splashed some cold water onto his face. He just hoped that kid was alright . . .

"Why are you such a fool, America?" asked a soft voice.

America nearly tripped on the floor and just barely caught himself with the lip of the sink as he stared at the mirror above him in a mixture of astonishment and dread. Where his reflection should have been, his 2P self stood gazing at him in profound disapproval of the outgoing country.

His vivid pinkish-ruby irises peeked out from behind slightly wavy chestnut red hair as he fidgeted with the hem of a dorky looking bubblegum pink, argyle sweater vest over a lighter pink long sleeved shirt, that you'd normally see your grandma wearing . . . off of her meds. He had circular, wire rimmed glasses set on his face that was smeared with peculiar looking blue and pink pastel colored frosting.

"Dude, what are you doing here in the States?" he asked in absolute bewilderment.

Unlike him, 2P-America had been completely totaled by England in the Revolutionary War, and was technically still an English colony. Since then, he was pretty much like England's little lost puppy, and followed him around everywhere while also heavily depending on him for everything. America doubted that he even stayed in his own house very often, which just made him cringe at the thought of still living under England for that long.

2P-America looked up and shuddered as he hugged around his arms. "You could have really hurt yourself . . . "

America shrugged, but nodded simply. "Yeah, I know! But I'm the hero, it's what I do!" he laughed as he put his hands on his hips and rose his chest out proudly.

"I can't believe that you're that arrogant." 2P-America shook his head sadly. "You could have gotten yourself seriously hurt, and that kid killed because you scared him. Why don't you just stay out of trouble?"

"Because that's not what a hero would do!" America exclaimed with another round of laughter as he grinned at his 2P counterpart. "It's just the right thing to do, you know?"

"No! You could have minded your own business and let him go on his merry way!" 2P-America pressed as he looked like he was on the verge of crying. "Do you know how much you could have worried England?! After all he's done for you!"

The nation of liberty sighed with exasperation and leaned up against the cold tile walls of the bathroom as he crossed his arms and legs casually. His 2P persona was such a crybaby sometimes. "I'm a fully grown country, I can take care of myself, dude."

"So you don't care a thing about the big brother who poured out his heart and soul to raise you?!" 2P-America questioned as his body began to tremble with emotion as hot tears started running down his cheeks.

For America, it was kind of unsettling seeing an almost mirror image of himself in such a weak, and pitiful state, that he couldn't help but wonder just how badly his other self had lost the Revolutionary War.

"Hey, of course I care about England." America tried to reassure the sobbing nation. "He and I are bros!"

"Well you sure don't treat him like one!" 2P-America whispered in a solemn tone of voice as he gazed at his counterpart with tear-lined eyes. He wiped them with his sweater and sniffled. "Why do you like treating him so badly? He misses having his little brother safe at home . . . "

America actually found himself wincing at those accusatory words as he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, with a laugh that felt hollow upon release. "Y-You know that it was for the best, man." He said reassuringly, though he wasn't sure if it was directed towards his 2P self, or a way to try and ease his own nerves. "I couldn't let England keep telling me what to do. My people and I just weren't cool with that. We want our rights, and to be able to voice our own opinions."

"But all that's left you with is a broken family and no one who loves you." 2P-America said with a silent display of disappointment, but also pity as he held one of his arms insecurely. "D-Do you even love him anymore?"

America's facial expressions actually softened as he nodded slowly. "Of course I do." He said quietly as he turned and faced the wall of the bathroom, not even able to bear looking at his easily emotional counterpart for fear of starting to cry himself. The bitter truth was that ever since he first started his conversation with Jace, old memories were starting to flood back that only his storage closet could bring.

And he hated cleaning that thing . . .

Sometimes it felt like his good times with England were so long ago, it was almost like a fairytale. Something that was never really there, and was just something the young country used to make himself believe that there was someone who used to care about him . . .

The weak 2P let out a shaky sigh, but unsteadily opened his hand as it trembled with anxiousness. He mustered up a small smile of hopefulness as he raised it tensely towards America, who was gazing down at the floor dejectedly. "I-I . . . I can help you if you want th-though." He offered gently. "A-An a-alliance, t-to be closer to E-England. I-I seem to know how to treat him a little b-better, m-maybe I can help you . . . "

America paused and turned slowly back around to gaze at his nervous, but still very supportive 2P. It was no mystery that America was an oblivious and headstrong nation in many instances, who didn't know how to treat a situation without trying to brighten it up, or, by being the brave "hero" that definitely got a lot of eye rolls. Having his 2P self helping him could teach him how to be more careful around everyone, including England . . .

The young country paused and thought to himself for a long time, thinking back to all of the slip-ups he had made because of his carelessness. There were too many to count, and just kept piling up more and more, the further back he thought. However, as he recalled all of them, he could also recount how he had cheered up the situation by just responding in his usual, confident but also somewhat ignorant manner. He tightened his hand that he could already feel ready to take up his 2P counterpart's offer, and finally shook his head with a small smile instead. "Nah, man. Thanks, but no thanks. I can stand on my own."

"A-America, don't get a b-big head a-about this. It's g-going to cause e-even more tr-trouble." The ever-worried nation stammered while paling horribly. "C-Come o-on, m-make an a-alliance with m-me, please. E-England—"

"Is just going to have to accept that I grew up." America responded with a simple shrug as he put his hands in his jeans pockets again. "There's not much more to it, dude. Look, I love England. A lot. But I can't let that mean that I'm going to do everything he wants, because of that. I have my own style and ideas that I want to live by."

"A-America, pl-please don't d-do this!" 2P-America begged as he pressed his hands close to the mirror with a panicked expression displayed all over his face. "I-I won't be able to s-sleep knowing that E-England is still disappointed in y-you."

But America just shrugged again and made his way over to the door casually, causing his 2P to start to hyperventilate. "Dude, sorry to tell you this but if he has a problem, then he'll just have to deal with it." He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck for just a second as he left some parting words before finally disappearing back into the subway, and out of the view of his mirror image. "But you know . . . even though he'd never admit it, I think that he is kind of proud of me."

And with that, he was gone.

As he strolled through the terminal, America spotted Jace sitting on a bench and talking to a police officer with a miserable look on his face, probably reflecting on the notion of being forced to go back home. America approached him again and grinned at the officer who warned him that he didn't have any business there, to which the personified nation quickly flashed his ID to reassure the on-duty man.

The officer was shocked upon the country's identity, and rapidly apologized while also stating he would just be nearby to keep an eye on them as he left the two alone with each other.

Jace raised an eyebrow, but turned his head away from the guy who had gotten him in trouble with the authorities in the first place.

America sighed and stretched his back against the bench as he tried to appear friendly to the upset teen. "So, let me try this again, 'kay?" he chuckled. "Because I think you should know that I ran away from home too."

"Then why'd you rat me out?" Jace muttered.

"Didn't mean to, sorry." America chuckled as he scooted a bit closer to him.

Jace paused and stared down at the bench in contemplation before finally asking with his guard just slightly lowered. After all, America had saved his life, and treated him just fine so far with only getting him in trouble with the police being the only thing keeping him from actually liking the guy. "So what's it like? Being on your own?"

America turned his head as his eyes glimmered behind his rectangular frames. "Ever heard of the Revolutionary War, Jace?"

Chapter four is finally up guys, yay! And now to read the mail for the day!

In response to thatwolfbutler, I'm so glad that you enjoy this fan fic! I'm hoping that more people enjoy it too, and that I can get lots of great reviewers like you! Which country out of the Allies are you interested in seeing interact with their 2P self next? ^^

And to also respond to my newest reviewer silverheartlugia2000, good timing in asking about the America twins! Yes, I agree with you, I think that America is smart but I also think that he's clueless too at times. Typical Americans tend to think with their hearts and drive to deliver justice more than careful consideration about consequences, which is how I see America. He's also a little derpy sometimes, but that's just because he has a lot to learn being a younger nation. So yeah, he's not stupid, just clueless sometimes. As for Canada, I'll have to see whether or not he's going to be in here. I'd imagine that his 2P self is very rude, and temperamental around others though, especially towards his brother who would easily be pushed around.