AN: So many chapters in so little time! Is it someone's birthday? Well, it probably is, somewhere in the world, but not anyone I know. I'm just being unexpectedly productive this weekend. This chapter basically finishes up with Britain and America for now. Sorry that I've been focusing on them a lot. I'm going to move on to a new team soon. You'll see. (And don't worry if you want more of Britain and America, as well. I'm most certainly not done with them yet. But other nations need a chance in the spotlight.)

Britain's heart leapt in his chest and then, slightly embarrassed, it snuck back down to where it was supposed to be.

America's eyes were blazing. The nation twisted on his feet and faced the next target, bringing his arm up in a wide arc. Britain saw a flash of sparks and the second Proeliite went flying backwards.

The third of the monsters charged America from behind but he slammed his heel into its kneecap, then swung at the creature's head. Now Britain saw what America was holding - it looked like a truncheon, but it fizzled with sparks, and it must have been powerful to lay flat a drone in one blow. Where had he gotten it...? But just as Britain wondered, the fourth Proeliite reached behind it and its hand came out wielding another nightstick. America must have stolen his from the first one before using it against its former owner.

Britain hardly had the time for any positive emotion like hope to well up in him because the other nation was fighting like a demon in front of him, and the flurry of swings and parries and punches happening before his eyes knocked all sense out of Britain until all that was left was shock.

"Never! Go! After! My! Friends!" America was yelling, punctuating ever word with another ferocious swing of the truncheon. He was not very large compared to the seven-foot Proeliite guards, but right now he seemed to tower like a giant. "Don't! You! DARE!" He delivered a mighty kick like a pro soccer striker, and a third monster was down, though not unconscious.

And though together they might still have overpowered him, the Proeliites were starting to retreat from America and his rage. Britain understood: they were trying to protect the thin one. The two who were still fit made a greenish wall in front of their leader, and the third crawled up and followed them. America beat them back all the way through the doors, and once they were through, he slammed them shut and jammed the sparking nightstick through the handles.

That was actually clever, Britain thought in mild surprise. If anyone tried to batter down the door the stick would break, and probably electrocute anyone coming through, since the door was metal.

He was thinking about this because it helped him not think about everything else, like the way his pulse was way too high to be safe and kept skipping like a broken record, and how he felt like he'd just spent time in a sweat lodge from Hell and then been dunked in a drift of methane snow from Titan.

And like something was slowly, steadily, unwillingly draining out of him. Was it anger, fear, or both at once?

Or it could be his ear fluid, because America had bounded over to him, grabbed his head, and started shaking it. "Whatever you are, get out of his brain!" America was yelling wildly. "Get out of Britain and give him back, you stupid jerk alien thing, or I'll rattle you out myself! Give him back! Give him back!" There were actual tears in his eyes, but that was probably from hysteria. "Britain! Come on, man! You can fight it! Don't let it take over you! Because that would totally suck and then I wouldn't be able to argue with you over pointless, banal things anymore! I'm sorry I said anything about mind rape! I didn't mean it! I don't ever want that to happen to you even if it is just so I can rescue you because it's actually really stressful-"

"St-t-op-p-p sh-sh-a-ak-k-i-i-ng-g-g m-m-m-y-y-y h-he-a-d-d-d," Britain said, his voice buzzing like he was talking through spinning fan blades.

"Huh?" asked America, stopping abruptly. "What?"

"You're going to give me whiplash, you idiot!" groaned Britain. "You don't have to do that! It doesn't work like that!"

"Are you resisting the alien mind control?" asked America doubtfully. He curled his fingers around Britain's shirt as if he was getting ready to start shaking him again.

"I wasn't being controlled by them! It's not like that! It just makes you... makes you scared..." He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Feel free to release me any time you like."

"Um. Right." America let go and rocked back on his heels. "How's your brain?"

"I suppose... quite well, considering."

Curiously, America seemed to be fighting with himself over something, unsure of whether or not to speak. His conscience tore it out of him. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "I'm really sorry, dude! I shouldn't have been such a jerk..."

"What on Earth are you talking about, America? You just saved my life. How can you possibly be sorry...?"

America was holding his head in a vise-like grip. "I should have known! I should have seen what those things were doing to you right away! I'm supposed to be protecting you..."

On an impulse Britain reached out and gripped America's shoulder. "You did protect me! You did just what you were supposed to do! This is all my fault, you arrogant fool! Stop being so... so... heroic!"

America's head shot up. "Huh? What d'you mean?"

"Stop blaming yourself for everything! You don't have to take responsibility for the mistakes I make. That's so typical. You hero types get it in your damn heads that you have to save everyone and that no one can look after themselves!" He shook his head bitterly. "I betrayed you. All of you. And you're blaming yourself?"

Now it was America who clasped Britain's arm. "That wasn't you! That was them, inside your head..."

"I told you it's not like that! They don't control you, they just... suggest. And I listened to them. I listened..." He hung his head. "I was still me the whole time. I said those things to you..."

America shuffled closer. "That's what they want you to think," he said seriously. "But I don't think it's really like that at all. Remember, it happened to me once, too. I thought you were behind all this..."

"That was..." Expecting an apology, Britain tried to wave the end of America's sentence away. "It wasn't that... look, you don't have to-"

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying. Dude, listen to me. I just remember that right afterwards I felt, like, really awful, because it didn't feel like something had made me think what I did, it felt like I'd been thinking it. But then... I realized it wasn't me at all. It wasn't me because..." He paused, unsure of how to describe his thoughts. "Well, if it hadn't been for the Proeliites, I wouldn't have been thinking like that, right? And neither would you. Brains are all just chemicals, aren't they? They mess with the chemicals. And that means it can't possibly be you."

"What... what do you mean by that?" asked Britain, slightly dazed.

America reached out and pressed his finger to Britain's forehead. "That's you in there. Whatever happens is because you see things and hear things and feel things and what your brain does with it all... that's you. It's all secret and hidden and no one else has anything exactly like it. And if they messed with what happens inside here, then you weren't you anymore. If they touch the secret... then it isn't the same..."

Britain slowly blinked. "Who the hell are you," he said, "and what have you done with America?"

America coughed uneasily. "Uh... dude, are you okay?" He waved a hand over Britain's eyes. "It's me, okay? You know me."

"Yes, I do, and I've never heard you say anything remotely intelligent, much less profound," Britain shot back, strangely angry. "What's gotten into you?"

"You've never heard me say..." America's eyes started to wobble uncertainly, and his forehead creased up.

Nice going, Britain, the nation told himself angrily. Now you hurt his feelings.

"Oh, America, I didn't mean that," he said hastily. "It's just... that was unusually... philosophical... in a good way... forget it..."

America shrugged. "I was just thinking, after we were in the dead body room..."

"You were thinking?" said Britain, but this time it sounded like he was just teasing. America snorted and pretended to tackle him in mock anger.

"I'll get you for that...!"

Britain was laughing. "No, you won't!" But in the end America had him pinned in a half-Nelson against the wall. "All right! All right! You win." Britain struggled ineffectually. "Let me go now."

America giggled. "Do you take it back?"

"N- Yes! Fine! I take it back."

"Go on, say it, then," said America, still wearing a giant goofy smile.

"Say what?"

"Say that I'm actually quite clever. Go on, say it just like that."

Britain sighed. "All right... America?"

"Yes?" asked America eagerly.

"You're... actually quite clever." And before America could say anything to respond, Britain added, "I mean it. I really do. Ever since we got here you've been doing things that I had never expected you were... capable of. I really misjudged you."

Uh oh. Too much?

America's eyes looked very watery again. "Really?" he said in a small voice. "You mean that?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that you aren't usually like this, okay? Don't think this means I-" He swallowed. America had snaked an arm around his neck and caught the back of his head in one hand.

Britain flinched. It was that weird feeling again, that irrepressible annoying feeling. Usually the more friendly he was with someone, the more comfortable he felt around them, but this particular person turned that whole rule upside down. "Uh... America... listen, I'm not sure I-"

But then a voice interrupted him.

"Ah! There we are! Molto bene! Knew this thing would work if I just gave it some more power-"

Britain and America turned as one. "Doctor?" they both asked, in disbelief.

"Oh. Hold on. Did I just butt into some kind of private-?"

"Where are you?" Britain exclaimed. "How the hell-?"

"The map!" said the Doctor cheerfully. His voice was a bit crackly and not too loud but otherwise it was quite remarkable. "Oh, I am clever, aren't I? Super-thin receptor-transceiver circuitboard, just like they had back on old Gallifrey maybe two thousand years ago. Isn't it brilliant? Come on, don't just sit there. Pick up the map!"

America got it first. "This thing talks?" he said incredulously. "The map talks?"

"Well, no. I do, and you hear it. It's like a phone. Or a walkie-talkie. Only thinner, and it's got a map on the front for convenience and disguise. Hello, America! How are you, then?"

"Awesome! This is so cool! Can you see me, too?"

"No, it only does sound. But I can talk to all of you at once- yes, hello to you too, France. Thanks but no thanks..." He paused, listening. "Yes, he's here... Britain, France... er... sends his regards."

Britain rolled his eyes. "Tell him he's a smelly git."

"He says hi, too."

"Does he, now?"

The Doctor hesitated. "Sort of."

"Well, then, tell him hello back and that he's a smelly git, all right?"

"Right-o. France, Britain says hello back, and that he's very glad to hear that you're safe. And... oh! Hello, Italy! That's very nice of you! Where's Germany?" Another pause. "Well, this is wonderful. I think we're still all alive! Congratulations, everyone!" There was the sound of clapping. "So, this is my very clever little idea that's being carried out right now. I'm going to be a very helpful and friendly guide to you all via these maps. I'll assist you if you need it, and make sure you're going the right way, and shout instructions at you at various times just to bother you! It'll be splendid fun, don't worry."

Britain tapped the map as if that got the Doctor's attention. "So...er... is Japan with you? Is he all right?"

Japan's quiet voice came through. "Moshi moshi."

"Hello to you too, old chap. How are you doing?"

"Quite well. This is all very new and exciting for me."

Britain nodded and smiled. "I should think so, yes."

Then the Doctor's voice returned. "You two, Britain and America. How are you doing? I hope you've reached the hangar bay by now."

America winced and hung his head. "About that... I think I-"

But Britain cut him off. "I'm afraid I got a little turned around," he said. "I'm terribly sorry."

Carefully, America turned to look at Britain, first in confusion and then in understanding. He patted Britain's shoulder.

"I hope you're all right," the Doctor said, sounding very concerned. "Did anything happen to you?"

America and Britain's eyes met. "Did anything happen?" America said thoughtfully. "No, it was... pretty dull, actually."

"Entirely dull," Britain corrected, with a perfectly straight face. "I could have died from boredom."

The Doctor spun around in his swivel chair to face the new set of controls in the interface room. It felt like being in an airline control center. The whole structure was on a spire protruding from the main hull of the ship. There had been a long climb up a spiral staircase to reach it, but the view was worth it.

Next to the Doctor, Japan sat in the copilot's chair, industriously typing on a holographic keyboard.

"How's that first firewall coming, Japan?" the Doctor asked. He had his square-framed spectacles on and his sonic screwdriver out, which said that he meant business.

"It is nearly down, Hakase. The algorithms are a bit tricky."

"That's fine... remember, the first firewall is not going to be as bad as all the rest. And there's bound to be an alarm in there somewhere, so make sure you disable any strange codes of text."

Japan nodded, without letting his eyes leave the screen. "I will remember that. How is your work progressing?"

"Not bad, I suppose." He shifted his headset. "Britain? Sorry, I didn't catch that..."

"It wasn't very interesting, no," said Britain. "Not at all."

"I'm sure that's a lie," said the Doctor. "Come on, I want to hear. I bet it was quite an adventure." He listened to Britain speak for a little while, nodding occasionally. He smiled all through the beginning, but towards the end his face grew serious. "Tell me exactly what he said," the Doctor ordered. "Word for word." He listened some more. "Doesn't sound like a very nice chap," he commented. "All right. Keep going, but be careful." He pressed a button. "How is it coming with you lot?"

"Russia's acting a bit funny, aru," said China. "Not that he doesn't always. But I don't trust him with this..."

"Oh, don't worry. Just go find out what's wrong with him and give him a hug for comfort or something." Feigning oblivion to China's high-pitched protests, the Doctor pressed another button. "Germany and Italy... how much of the place have you got mapped out?"

"Nearly two levels so far," said Germany. He paused, and then his voice grew lower and the Doctor could hear his breathing. It sounded like he was holding the paper up to whisper into it. "I vould not have believed it but Italy is qvite good at this. He remembers vhere everything is so exactly. Ist uncanny."

"Probably a photographic memory," the Doctor said, waving a hand and leaning back. "I hear he's quite a good artist."

"Ja, but..." And then the Doctor heard Italy's voice, too.

"Hey, Germany! Why are you whispering to the map like that? Veh, you look so funny! Come on, I've got another diagram worked out!"

"All right," Germany said. "I vill report back soon."

"You don't have to-" But the Doctor was cut off by a rustling which meant that the paper was being folded up. He laughed slightly. He was almost certain that Germany had saluted the map before putting it away.

AN: Hooray! Omniscient helpful Doctor map! Wouldn't you love one of those in a first-person puzzle game? Aaaannndd... Team Germany and Italy coming up next!