Hi everyone, and late happy holidays! I'm probably going to be killed for this chapter, especially because it's so short, but I'm happy to finally have this chapter end the day that's been dragged on for 5 or so chapters. Please enjoy! I will say that the story is going to end within maybe 3 chapters; it depends on how I want to break up the chapters.

I hope you all enjoy!

England entered the guest room, sighing to himself and asking JARVIS to leave him to himself, which the A.I. did. Alone, England sat himself on the bed, releasing a heavy sigh. He then laid himself on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. While every instinct told him to go and check on America, he decided against it. He'd deal with America on his own time. After his confrontation with the Avengers, he didn't feel like dealing with the American.

Natasha, worried about her young teammate (no matter if he was a country, he'd always be a young one to her), entered his room quietly, holding a plate filled with food. She expected to see the man asleep, but was shocked to find him sitting up and staring out the window. Hearing the door open and close, America turned to regard the spy.

"Hey, Miss Romanoff," America said a bit weakly, smiling.

His smile was pathetic. It looked like it was trying to be fake, but couldn't even meet up to those standards. She stepped over, placing the plate on the nightstand.

"Alfred, I didn't think you were awake," Natasha said, sitting down by the nation. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I've been away for time, but I just thought about staying here and thinking," Alfred answers. "And yes, I'm fine."

"You must be thinking about what you will do after this, yeah?" Natasha asked in understanding.

"Yeah," America answered, looking back out to the window.

"Do you know what you might do?" Natasha asked gently, not wanting to push the American too far.

"No...Is that bad?" America asked.

"No," Natasha consoled quickly. "It's fine. This is something big, something you can't decide in a second."

America nodded, not looking completely sure. He kept his gaze out the window. He had been contemplating what he would do since waking up. He was conflicted with everything. He didn't want to leave the Avengers because they were the closest thing to a second family, but he knew that he couldn't neglect his standing as a nation; he was a nation first and foremost.

A hand in his own made him look at Natasha. Natasha knew a mask when she saw one, and she smiled lightly, gripping his hand. No matter what, she'd be there for him. No matter what was running through his mind, she'd always be there for him like a big sister or mother (but Tony was never going to discover that).

"If you want to talk, I'll listen. I'm here for you," Natasha said.

"Why?" America asked before he could stop himself. "Even though you now know who I am, why would you want to be there for me?"

"Because you're my friend, and I want to be there for you. I don't know what's wrong, but you're hurt, and whether it's because of your past or your current situation, I don't care," Natasha said. "I'll always be here for you."

Perhaps it was the action or the words or something like it, but it sparked a memory in America's mind. It was just after the reunification of the Union and Confederation, and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. He had been lying in his bed, trying to recover from the actions that occurred during the war and just after it. England had showed up, despite his claims to stay neutral in the war. He had come to care for America, who had been wallowing in his own pain for years and hours on end. America had asked him then, why was England there, taking care of him. England had smiled sadly and responded that no matter what, he'd always be there for the young nation.

America was pulled out of his memory by a thumb on his cheek. He found it was Natasha removing a tear that had fallen. He looked at Natasha and found himself looking at her in a misty look. Something in him broke, and before he could regain himself, he began to cry. Natasha immediately pulled him into a hug, patting his back and allowing the nation to cry on her shoulder. It was awkward, with him being taller than her, but she didn't care. Alfred needed her in that moment and she'd do anything to make him better.

Canada, wanting to check on his brother, poked his head inside the room, checking to see whether America was in a good mood or not. He was surprised when he found his little brother openly crying to the S.H.I.E.L.D. spy. He stepped out, leaning against the wall to gauge the occurrence. He smiled to himself, deciding that the situation was being handled well by the woman.

Perhaps that's all he ever needed; a mother figure to give America the comfort he needed.

With a smile, Canada walked off, positive that the American would be fine, and went to find Kumajiro, who was with Thor; the man of mythology seemed to have grown attached with the little bear. While Kumajiro couldn't hurt Thor, it was still a good idea to get the bear out of the man's hands before the bear lost his mind.

After a good cry, Natasha managed to get America to eat and fall asleep, since rest would be a good help. It was already night time outside, and the others were already in bed. Thor had managed to talk Canada into letting Kumajiro spend the night with him that night, which made the little polar bear very annoyed, but he decided to allow it; Kumajiro swore revenge upon Canada and Thor. After cleaning America's dish, Natasha found herself in bed too, leaving only one other person awake in the Tower.

England sneaked into America's room quietly, not wanting to be heard. He had already warned J.A.R.V.I.S. not to record nor speak about what he was doing in America's room. Stepping over to the bedside, England looked down at the sleeping American. The boy's cheeks were red, and his eyelashes were moist, indicating that he had been crying earlier. England stroked some strands out of America's face before gripping America's hand. He gave it a firm squeeze, indicating he was there for the boy, before removing his hand and leaving the sleeping man's room. Even if America would never know, it was still a way for England to cope.