The sound of his private phone playing the Preussenlied – it had taken forever to find a version he deemed adequate for his ring tone – dragged Prussia from sleep. He fumbled for the device wondering who the fuck would be calling him at this hour.

It wasn't a familiar number. Which was more than odd, because only Germany and America had this number. He didn't give it out to many people, and used this phone mainly so he could talk with his brother when he was out on reconnaissance – others could call it drinking binges and trouble-making, but Prussia knew exactly what he was doing and why – without anyone's national security listening in.

Maybe he was a bit paranoid on that front, but after the time he'd spent living as a soviet satellite state when he'd known damn well that everything he said and did was monitored, Prussia figured he had a right to paranoia. Besides, humans could get a bit odd about that kind of thing, and not many avatars knew they could disobey their bosses, much less how to do it – or how difficult it was, even when you knew with all your fucking soul that the boss was telling you to do something that would hurt your people and your nation.

It could just be a wrong number: he'd had a few of those.

He swiped the phone to accept the call. "What?"

Whoever it was made an odd sound, a bit like trying to suppress a sob, then a familiar and unexpected voice said, "It's me. You know, Am-"

Prussia cut in before the other man could finish. "Right, didn't recognize the number. Do you know what fucking time it is here?" This phone might be more secure than the official ones, but that didn't mean Prussia was going to risk too much with whatever the hell America was calling him about.

America's voice sounded sheepish when he said, "Um... a little after 2am. And I'm outside your gates." A pause, and another of those odd gulping sounds, then, "It's a burner phone I picked up with prepaid minutes."

"I'll be there shortly." Prussia rolled off the bed and pulled on jeans and a shirt, his mind spinning through possibilities.

America sounded upset, even frightened. That was one certainty. Another: the usually confident and easy-going avatar had called with an anonymous, easily discarded phone and not his official one or anything else that was known to be his. He'd come to Berlin quietly – extremely quietly: Prussia had to focus to feel the man's presence and normally America's arrival anywhere within Germany's borders felt like a thunderclap – and called at an hour when almost nobody would be around.

This wasn't even a case of something having gone wrong. It was so far beyond that Prussia wondered if he was seeing the beginning of the fall he'd seen coming ever since the attack on America's World Trade Center. Or rather, the reaction of the world's bosses to it.

Falls like this could be horribly rapid things, but they could also be slow declines of the sort where when the old men complained about how good things had been back in the day they weren't actually misled by faded memories and nostalgia.

As Prussia quietly unlatched the door and slipped out of the house, he wondered which this one would be. His work reconfiguring the European Union – very much under the covers – wasn't close to finished yet, although if need be he could use it in the Plan. The Plan itself was almost through the first stage of preparations, which meant that in a crisis he and Germany could take control. It wouldn't be as effective as moving later, and there'd be some far-from-awesome things he'd need to do – things that Germany couldn't do without tarnishing the reputation they'd built so carefully over the last twenty five years.

Prussia could do what was needed because he was the loose cannon, the supernumerary. Surplus to requirements. If need be, Germany could disown anything Prussia did.

More than that, though, despite his appearance – which stood out like nothing else on earth – Prussia was much, much better at the stealth and spying shit than his brother could ever be. He just didn't do it in quite the way the other avatars expected. No, he was loud, obnoxious, and apparently drunk off his face, and just as apparently oblivious. Russia still had no idea how many state secrets Prussia had read over his shoulder.

Like most of them, he preferred to think of "East" as a completely different person, although Prussia had to admit Russia had more reason than most. For all he'd still surprise Russia with sunflowers on a whim, the bigger man never trusted the gifts the way he'd done with "East".

His bare feet made very little sound as Prussia walked along the driveway to the gate, where the house security protected them from anyone stupid enough to think of burglary – and they'd have to be pretty fucking stupid.

The dogs would raise hell if anyone they didn't recognize entered the grounds, there were all manner of alarms and monitors – Prussia had set them up and configured them himself, drawing on his experiences avoiding soviet monitoring – and anything that woke his brother in the middle of the night was guaranteed to get the kind of reaction that made people think longingly of his brother's wartime interrogation techniques.

Well... maybe not quite that bad. But not pleasant.

#

America was indeed waiting at the gate, looking horribly like a lost, frightened kid when Prussia keyed the manual override and pulled the pedestrian gate open. "Come on in."

The kid waited until Prussia had closed and secured the gate before he said, "I'm sorry for dragging you out of bed like this, but... I couldn't..."

Yes, that was a sob he was trying to keep down. "This sounds like a legitimate reason to me," Prussia said softly. "We'll talk about it in my room, okay? We've got pretty heavy security on this place, but my room isn't in the loop."

They started walking back to the house, America so obviously trying not to cry it had Prussia wondering what in the fuck was going on over in the kid's lands.

"No surveillance?" America asked. "Isn't that kind of... you know, risky?"

Prussia shrugged. "There's no way anyone can get to it without setting off a dozen or more alarms." Australia had tried a year or so back, the result of a large amount of beer and a bet with New Zealand. The southern avatar won the bet: he'd been able to enter Prussia's home despite the formidable defenses he and Germany had built. He hadn't been able to enter without warning, and finding a very displeased Prussia waiting for him, sword in hand, had sobered Australia up very quickly indeed.

"Ah. A safe room."

"Yeah." Except it wasn't, really. In Prussia's perspective a "safe room" was nothing more than a fancy name for a trap. There were multiple ways out of his room, but only one in – and the extra exits were very much one way. Not only that, if he ever needed to use any of his emergency escape routes, he'd need to rebuild the defenses he'd designed for them.

Because if it was an emergency, then his life was in danger and there was exactly one person Prussia would sacrifice his life for. Things could be replaced. He and especially Germany could not.

He let America inside, pulled the door closed and locked it again. Everything was as it should be: his brother asleep upstairs, the dogs snoring in their kennels. The house – finally feeling like home again after nearly twenty five years here – comfortable and peaceful.

Prussia led his guest to his basement bedroom, closing the door behind him before he said, "I'm turning the light on now. You'll want to cover your eyes." He closed his before he hit the light switch, letting his damnably slow-adjusting eyes recover from that before he tried to look at anything.

It was one of the nasty little side effects of his condition: his vision was weak compared to his fellow avatars. It was fine by human standards, but to get that much his eyes constantly healed themselves. One of the many reasons he wore sunglasses when he was out during the day.

He'd learned to compensate, using other cues instead of relying wholly on his eyes. He was far more comfortable in darkness and semi-darkness than any of the other avatars, and far more dangerous.

Now though... America squinted at him with a hand shading his face. The kid's eyes were red and swollen from crying, and he was paler than he should be. Thinner, too, like he'd lost muscle. "So who do I thank for the honor?"

America shuddered. "It's my boss," he said in a tight voice on the edge of another breakdown. "He hates me."

Before Prussia could speak, the kid waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh, not personally. I've dealt with that before. He hates everything I am, everything I stand for."

For a moment, Prussia was unable to speak. He couldn't even think. What finally emerged after far, far too long was a soft, "... shit."

#

After a revelation like that, even Prussia needed beer to recharge his awesomeness, or so he told America – who needed a lot of beer before he calmed down enough to actually talk about what kind of crazy his boss was into.

The short answer was 'all the worst kind' in Prussia's opinion.

"You know, you missed something when you said where a boss needs his loyal people to control a nation," America finished with a bitter laugh that didn't sound like him at all. "You missed the fucking 'public service'."

Prussia could hear the air quotes.

"Fuckers have the fucking elections set to give them the result they want." America set his beer down and fell back onto the bed. "It's a fucking police state that just hasn't taken the gloves off yet."

At least the gloves hadn't come off. Prussia knew – too well – that a group planning this kind of quiet takeover would keep them on until they were sure they held all the power. That meant they didn't. Not yet.

And that meant there was still a chance, however slim, that the Plan wouldn't be needed.

"Apart from a safe place to sound off, what do you want from me?" Prussia asked. "I'll tell you now, I can help, but you won't like my advice and you'll find it hard as hell to follow."

America snorted. "Dude, the fucking IRS has audited me every year for the past five years." He made a face. "Me." Another of those uncharacteristically bitter laughs. "It's a good thing Australia was visiting when I got the first demand. He found me a good tax lawyer."

Prussia blinked, let his mind filter through everything he'd heard and read about America's tax laws. "Ah, yes. Because the laws have become such a mess nobody can be completely in compliance, yes?"

"Yeah." America sighed and closed his eyes. "Siccing the fucking NSA on me was the last straw. I'll take shit from my boss, but that's just..."

NSA... Prussia had to think to work out the significance of that. "Wait... your boss has you under surveillance?"

"Yeah. Figured you'd know how that feels."

Well, yes. He knew all right. The thought still made his gut clench with anger and a burning desire to kill the shits who thought they knew more about what was right for a nation than its avatar. To see this happen to America – the fucking embodiment of fucking freedom... That was enough to send Prussia direct to a war footing. "It's not awesome." He kept that dry. "So... you want my advice?"

"Please." America sounded tired now, worn beyond his years. "It hurts, Prussia. My boss and his whole fucking clique hating everything I am, it fucking hurts."

"Yeah." There wasn't much else Prussia could say. "It does." He took a deep breath. "All right. First. That prick is not your boss any more. He stopped being your boss when he started spying on you."

America blinked. "But... he's still..."

Prussia shook his head. "No. It's a three-way binding, kid. You, your people, your boss. You can't turn on your own people, not without breaking." It was entirely possible that America couldn't turn on his people. Russia had fallen into madness when he'd been forced to turn on his. And Germany... God, his brother... Prussia had taken that suffering for him to spare his brother the madness, the horror of it. "As long as your boss represents your people you've got to follow him. When he turns on them or you, that binding is broken. He can't command you any more." He shrugged. "You could even kill him if you thought it would improve things." Not that he would recommend anything so drastic.

America snorted. "As if I'd do anything to turn that prick into a martyr."

Prussia risked a soft chuckle. "Well, yeah. That is an issue. So. I presume you have people who are trying to work against him and his ilk?"

America nodded. "It's... not easy. They get subverted by the lunatic fringe or hit by the tax laws as soon as they get any kind of traction, but they're around." He frowned, bit his lip. "Actually, I wonder now if the nutcases aren't plants."

Ah, good. The kid was starting to think strategically. Prussia smiled a little. "It's likely. You're dealing with the old commies here, kid, and those shits were always a twisted collection." He wondered briefly if he should risk tapping some of the old connections that had been dormant since 1989. Russia's president was allegedly-former KGB, after all, and Prussia knew all too well that when it came to the KGB, there was no such thing as former.

Fucker was smart, too, smart enough to run rings around most of the other bosses.

"Here's the plan," he said after a moment. "You don't have to do what your boss tells you or what he wants you to do. It's going to be hellishly difficult to go against him, but you can."

America didn't even nod, just stared at Prussia as though he held a lifeline.

"First, you're going to get very lazy and have a nostalgia kick." There wasn't anything resembling humor in Prussia's smile. "What that means is you're going to go through any old shit you have in your basements, and move it to your attic – using the other realms to move between them."

That got a reaction. America stared at him as though he'd sprouted an extra appendage.

Prussia cackled. "Look, kid, humans can't handle us using the other realms. It breaks something in your minds. Anyone who's monitoring the feeds in your place is by definition against you – you don't need to worry about their minds cracking open." Now his grin was vicious. "Sooner or later they'll turn them off and you'll have privacy in your home again."

The kid winced. "For real?"

"Shit, yes." Prussia spread his arms wide. "It took me... oh, six months? No more than that, anyway... to convince the Stasi boys they didn't want to have the cameras in my place on. You can tell when they turn them off – they're like any electronics: once you know what they sound like, you'll know when they're not powered anymore."

America's eyes opened wide. "Holy shit. That's fucking awesome."

Prussia mock-bowed. "Awesome at your service, America." And grinned again. "I'll teach you how to throw off physical tails later. That's a bit more challenging. The thing is, when you do this, most of the time you're going to do exactly what the pricks expect you to do. And when you don't, most of the time you'll do something harmless."

"Like you bringing Russia sunflowers?"

"Exactly." Prussia grinned. "You're going to keep that dumb enthusiastic act going, too, and ramp it up as far as you can get it without breaking out laughing at how stupid it is."

America actually smiled then. "You've seen me at the World Council meetings. I think I can take it pretty far."

Prussia snickered. "Try some of those with your boss. You want him convinced you're a harmless fool."

He waved a hand. "Every now and then, you're going to use the other realms to go drop in on some of those not-exactly-resistance groups you've got. Incognito, of course."

The kid sobered immediately, and nodded. "Right. I've got a few identities I can use." He frowned, one hand tapping restlessly at his thigh. "Texas will be in on this. He's been at me to talk to you about this since before the last election." America counted on his fingers as he thought aloud. "Him, New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, Alaska, Florida... shit, most of the south and midwest will be in on this. Just have to keep it away from California or DC."

"That will help." He'd been on his own, with nothing but his own resources. "If it does come to a shooting war, you need to have your foundations laid."

Another nod, this one slower. "Yeah. I might ask Amelia if she'd be willing to help. She doesn't like him either, and not for the reasons you'd think."

Which translated to America's sister-avatar disliking this President for reasons that had nothing to do with his skin color. "Good." Prussia clasped America's right hand in his. "Trust me, kid, I don't want to see your nation tear itself apart. I'll give you whatever help I can."

America swallowed hard, those blue eyes going too bright, too shiny.

Prussia turned away so the kid could cry if he needed to without being observed. Which reminded him. "You've got the number. Call me any time. Just don't expect me to be sensible at this time of morning." He stood, and started rummaging in his dresser.

America made one of those odd swallowed-sob sounds. "You're sounding pretty sensible to me."

"Beer helps." Prussia's voice was dry enough to be mistaken for a desert. His hand closed around a familiar shape. "Ah. Got it." The old Iron Cross was from the first war – he'd destroyed all the ones he had from the second one – one he'd earned in the trenches in France. Conspicuous bravery or some such shit.

How he'd earned it didn't matter: what mattered was that the Iron Cross was his cross, a shape that had been with him since he'd been the Teutonic Knights.

He sat cross-legged on the bed and pulled his knife from the pocket outside of time or space where he kept such things. It was a first war vintage piece, too, meticulously maintained and oiled. And sharp.

Prussia carefully drew the blade across the pad of his index finger, just enough to start a trail of scarlet beading up in its wake. He set the knife aside for now, and squeezed the finger, let a couple of drops fall onto the Iron Cross, aware of America watching with fascination.

Now the tricky bit. This wasn't magic, precisely. It was more a function of what they were, how avatars linked to their lands and peoples.

With his eyes half-closed, Prussia focused inward first, to his link to this land, and this place, his home. Then out a little, to the defenses he and Germany had built. A slight twist of perspective, to bring the blood on the Iron Cross into that link, make it recognized as a small part of 'home', but only if America held it. That took focus, because he'd worked with his brother to block England, France, and America's conquest-given links to Germany after they'd unified. It was always harder to create a new link like this than it was to reactivate an old one.

Finally, he felt the connection settle and opened his eyes to see America watching with curiosity.

"Here," Prussia said, handing him the Iron Cross. "As long as you don't wash it the house defenses will recognize you as belonging here."

The younger avatar's mouth fell open. "You're trusting me with that?"

There were many answers Prussia could have given to that stunned question, but he kept to the simplest. "It's necessary." This wasn't like previous centuries, hell it wasn't even like the last century. They'd had nearly seventy years of mostly peace since the end of the second war – seventy years when the world's major powers weren't doing their damndest to wipe each other off the map – and in that time they'd all become so closely entwined the old dream of a one world government was halfway there.

Except that it was a government of finance, not of humans, a single world government where the people meant nothing and the bottom line everything.

To Prussia's mind that was as much a tyranny as the soviets and their satellites had created, as absolute and cruel a rule as any king or emperor's reign. There had to be a balance.

Let commercial interests grow too strong and they would buy themselves the rules they desired and turn their employees into their slaves. Let governments become too strong and they would enslave the people. Hell, let anything become too strong and it would enslave or destroy everything in its path, be it a company, a government, a religion... it didn't matter. All were run by humans and would fall to human failings sooner or later.

He and his kind were no better: avatars were human enough to be corrupted by power. Prussia might be a little more aware of that danger than most, but he knew too well he was far from immune to it.

America studied him curiously. "I don't understand you sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Prussia grinned at him. "I'm slipping."

"Stop that." America made one of those vague gestures that could mean anything. "I know you're more than just the ass you pretend to be at the meetings. You're playing some long-term game that nobody else is in on, aren't you?"

Prussia chuckled softly. The kid was closer than he realized with that guess. Not that he was going to get a confirmation. "Don't read so much into things, kid." He shrugged. "You and Canada and Australia and New Zealand, do you know how precocious the lot of you are?" A slow shake of his head. "Normally it's several hundred years of colonization, sometimes getting tossed between warring powers or used as a buffer state, before you get a chance of being your own nation." He clicked his tongue. "The four of you not only got independence way early, none of you have ever been conquered or anything. That makes you ridiculously straightforward by the standards over here."

Although Prussia had expected America to take the comment more seriously than he would if he was at a World Council meeting – where he had his reputation as a goofy twit to maintain – he was still somewhat startled by the younger man's soft, "And Germany? You protected him from all of that, didn't you?"

"Yes." There was no point trying to misdirect America here. He'd been blunt enough about protecting his brother elsewhere. "I'd do the same again, even knowing what it would cost." And gladly, too. Germany was worth the suffering. Worth the loss of his heartlands.

America just nodded, his expression showing he understood what Prussia wasn't saying. "I know you're still hiding something," he said after a while. "I guess it doesn't matter that much." He stood, stretched. "I should be going." A pause. "Thank you, Prussia. I owe you."

Prussia didn't sleep for a long time after America's departure.

#