Sorry for the long wait, but I just got a lot of homework, and now (thanks to some dedicated reviewers) I am not continuing another fanfiction that I discontinued. So I've now got three fanfictions to worry about. There goes my idea of actually starting an origional novel this month. ): My goal is to finish this fanfiction before spring is over, so I'm going to be putting an emphasis on this fanfiction at the moment. Hopefully this winter will be over very soon! ;D

Also, this is more of a filler chapter than anything, but I liked this, so I decided to put it up. It actually is pretty important...

Disclaimer: If I owned hetalia, than I would live in Japan, not America.

The snow had stopped falling, but there was still a layer of snow and ice on the ground. It cracked and fell through often, and America had to walk painfully slowly to make sure that he didn't fall through the thin sheets of ice. He wasn't sure what was down there, but he did not want to learn.

"I wonder what this place is," he muttered to himself, glancing around at the area that he was at. There were evergreen trees scattered in the distance, and there was the sound of a large river flowing in the distance.

Seeing the potential shelter that the trees would give him, America started to walk towards the trees. He had been trapped in the middle of a blizzard once, and he didn't want to be stuck out in the cold again. If he had enough time before another snowstorm came, then he could fashion a nice tree shelter to warn off the snow. It would be easy to make, and if enough snow fell on the tree, he could be well-insulated.

Even though he was tired and a little shaky, he continued walking towards the trees. He would give anything to fall asleep right now, but it seemed as if his insomnia has come back and it would take another couple of days before he would fall asleep. It didn't bother him that much anymore; he had been sleeping that way ever since the last elections. Everything at his home seemed as if it was at a breaking point, and he would rather not be sleeping on the job when everything finally snapped. He had done that once, and it had not ended well. In fact, it exploded into a four-year civil war that had brought his bottom half to crumbles and his top to go and pick up the pieces. If he could do anything to change that from happening, he would do it.

His thoughts then jumped to what would happen if another civil war started. He was sure that the other countries would go and attempt to help him, even though he knew it would be better if he went through wars like that himself. He didn't need for them to help him. He had already been through a civil war by himself, and beyond falling apart on the inside, he had been fine.

I-I better stop thinking about that… America thought, shrugging a little in an attempt to get rid of the terrible images that had swept into his head. They were violent, and most of the time those images found their way into his dreams, making it so that a dream about hamburgers turned into a nightmare about civilians killing each other by McDonalds.

He looked around, trying to figure out which of the large trees was the closest.

Instead of trees, he saw a dark figure that was standing about ten feet away from him. It was a female, and she looked as if she was of Native American decent. She was quite tall and America felt as if she was very powerful. A foreboding feeling in his stomach made him wonder if he had met this person before but had forgotten her.

Is she a country that I have met before…? America thought weakly.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she pointed her finger at him and smiled at him warmly.

My son, the woman said. Even though her mouth wasn't moving, he could hear her. Her voice sounded like the chirping birds in the spring and the howling cold of the winter. She seemed to encompass everything in the natural world, and America knew that he had met this lady before. He knew that he had trusted this girl multiple times in the past.

This girl…this woman…was...was his mother!

Russia was attempting to cook borscht on a small stove with about half the ingredients that were needed to make the dish. He was sure that he was doing this wrong, since he had just made this dish about a month ago back and Russia and had definitely not used corn flakes in the mixture to substitute for something else.

Frowning, he let the pot of his dastardly creation on the stove and walked into the small room that served as his and America's bedroom. It was about a six-by-six foot room with two twin beds about a foot apart from one another. On bed was stripped of every sheet that had been on it and was placed on the other bed in a futile attempt to keep the bundle in the unstrapped bed warm.

Breathing a sigh of fatigue, Russia sat on the stripped bed and closed his eyes. He was tired and cold, and he was pretty sure that General Winter was doing something back in his country as well. Ever since he came here, he had felt terribly cold, and the fact that he was doing nothing about it was making the situation worse. Normally when he felt this cold his boss would let him just lie down all day and do nothing but write and finish his work with a pile of thick blankets wrapped around his body and some warm food always close by.

But of course, not it was different. He could shiver and cough from the cold inside him all he wanted, but no one was going to help him. In fact, he had another charge to worry about.

He had gotten off the train with America in his arms about three days ago, and he had walked to this cabin with the directions that the stationmaster had given him. Apparently, there were empty cabins scattered around the whole north around here to make sure that people who were stranded could stay in the warmth. Russia was quite grateful for that, because he and America were so north that there were no hotels around.

America hadn't done much since he had laid him down on the bed three days ago. He had not eaten or drank anything, nor had he showed anything that might show that he was going to wake up.

"Mom…" America muttered in his sleep, making Russia raise an eyebrow.

I never knew America had a mother, he thought curiously, I only knew that he had England as a father...

"Wait," the young nation muttered again, shifting in his bed uncomfortably, "Don't leave…"

To that, Russia felt a strange wave of awkwardness. Should he be watching a superpower talk to himself while he was asleep? Strangely enough, he felt as if he was intruding.

Ah, oh well, Russia thought, I have seen other nation sleep during my time as the Soviet Union…

Almost as soon as he thought that, America lurched up out of his bed, breathing heavily and coughing. He wrapped his arms around the area that he had been stabbed by General Winter and let out a small moan. "Where…where am I?" He then pawed at his face, as if he was trying to find something, "And where is Texas?" He sounded more scared about that than anything else.

Russia quickly switched bed and placed one of his strong hands on America shoulder, squeezing gently in a tired attempt to keep the young nation from freaking out.

"Do not worry, da?" he said conversationally, "You are safe, and we are quite north, following your orders to go as north as possible. I stopped here because we needed to rest a little. And you are fine, da?"

"Russia," America snapped, his voice sounding cold and calculating but open and uncertain at the same time, "I need to find my glasses. You know, Texas. They must have fallen off somewhere and I need them to see. I'm as blind as a bat without them…" his voice then trailed off uncharacteristically, as if he was deep in thought. "Why do I feel so cold? And you feel as if you are freezing, too. Why is your arm shaking, Russia?"

Frowning, Russia looked at his arms and indeed saw that it was, in fact, shaking. He laughed weakly; surprised that America was able to read the atmosphere. Maybe it is because he has lost his glasses? He thought weakly.

"You were attacked by General Winter," Russia told him, "And you were stabbed in your stomach area. I was there because I was trying to bribe General Winter to giving me a nice winter. As you can see, it didn't work. When I was running away with you, you must have dropped you glasses or something, because they have not been on your face for quite some time."

"What?" At that point, America sounded utterly lost, as if those glasses were really a part of him. And since he was a nation, Russia had a sinking feeling in his stomach that made him think that perhaps those glasses were a part of his country.

"Does your stomach hurt anymore? I have been cleaning it twice daily since we got here, and I am quite sure that it had been healing correctly," Russia asked, deciding to change the subject.

"Oh, my stomach?" America asked, "Um…it feels fine…it really does. I mean it's nothing compared with things that have happened to me before. Thanks…" The compliment slid off of his tongue slowly, as if he wasn't used to saying his gratitude to people.

"You are welcome," Russia said cheerfully, deciding to disregard the thoughts that were spreading into his mind. He was worried about America, and he didn't really know why. He had felt this way about America for a while, and he had never felt this way before to any other nation. "Does anything else hurt?"

America had to think a bit before he said anything. "I'd like to have some food," he said, "I am a little hungry, too. Here, can you help me get to the kitchen? I'm pretty sure I can cook something if I get there."

"As blind as a bat?" Russia countered, "I doubt you can do anything but get burned."

"I bet I can do it," America insisted, easing himself gingerly out of the bed, "There are a lot of things about me that would surprise you."

"Right now I am not worried about what you want to do," Russia told him, "I am only really concerned about your health." But he helped America walk to the kitchen anyway to make sure that he didn't run into anything.

America quickly got work 'cooking.' As soon as he could find a box of cereal, which was hidden on a shelf, and a bowl from the counter America poured the cereal into the bowl, spilling only a few pieces of the sugar-loaded calories. After that, he stubbornly found a place to sit and grabbed a handful of cereal from the bowl and shoved it in his mouth.

"See?" he muttered though the food, "I can cook."

To that, Russia laughed, "Well, that is better than hamburgers, I think. I am making something better, though, and it is warm."

"Good," America told him, sounding as if he was thinking about something else. "Also, I was thinking that we should start moving tomorrow, even if we are still cold. I have this feeling that we are very close to the place that we need to get to. And besides, there's something that I need to check out something up there…something that I didn't know I had before today."

"And what is that?" Russia asked, deciding that he already knew the answer.

"A mother," America answered suddenly, sounding as if he didn't believe it either, "I think I may have an actual mother."

Even though the sun was still setting by the time that they decided to go to bed, the cabin was covered in darkness.

After the first time America ran into a wall on the way to the bedroom, Russia decided to, once again, steer him into the room and onto the bed.

Neither of them said anything at first as America got into the bed, and as the younger country closed his eyes Russia decided to walk away.

"H-hey, where are you going to sleep?" America asked, "Because the last time that I checked, there were no covers on the other bed, and you are still freezing you butt off."

"I shall be sleeping on the couch," Russia told him, "Because last night I found it to be very comfy. And besides, we can't both sleep in that small bed."

"We can try," America told him back, "You need some warmth, too. I mean, you're sort of my ally, so I can't have you get sick over me. A-as long as you don't do anything to me while I'm asleep, I'll be fine. But if you do something to be- man, I'm going to nuke whatever parts of your body that you touched me with."

To that, Russia laughed. Really, that bed did sound comfy right now. He had gotten an ache in his back from sleeping in the couch, and those sheets looked very welcoming. "Very well," the older country told America, "Although, I promise you, I do not enjoy getting nuked, so I will try to not touch you. Please scoot over so I can have more room. My land mass is still larger than you, da?"

"Meh," America muttered, scooting over to the other side of the bed, "Good night."

"Good night," Russia muttered, getting underneath the covers and closing his eyes, secretly enjoying the warmth that the young country still had.

To him, it was strange how such a country that was going through such a terrible winter could still hold such nice warmth.

So did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Well, if you had any of those feelings while reading this chapter, please tell me about them! I would love to hear them! :D

Reviews are my fuel, so the more you review the faster I make my deadline and actually write work that sounds decent!