Would you look at this. I'm back at school and I still manage to produce a timely update. I've actually impressed myself. (...but that's only 'cause the professors haven't yet assigned any god-awful projects, so sadly this kind of consistency probably won't be the norm.)

Anyways, this chapter includes more talking and more feels and maybe even a little plot twist (at least, I think it's a plot twist). Let me know what you think about it, and in addition, if you had managed to guess this revelation before this chapter.

And again, you people are absolutely amazing. The love this story is getting, from regular readers and new readers alike, is just humbling. I can't thank you guys enough for the kind feedback and support you've given me. I can say one thing for certain; this story would not be where it's at now without your help. So thank you, so so much. :)

Alright then, on to the chapter.

I possedere nulla. (I own nothing, in Italian.)

Enjoy.

Although America tried to hide it, he knew that the untroubled expression he was trying to maintain wasn't fooling anybody. Both England and Canada knew him far too well. The idea that Canada didn't remember anything, didn't remember the centuries he and America shared before anyone had discovered them – that he didn't even remember his time as a colony – hit America fairly hard. It was like the majority of his life with his brother had been torn away from him. This knowledge wasn't perhaps as devastating as the revealing of Canada's death, but it still seeped deep and cold into America's bones, an unavoidable truth that he couldn't escape.

The smile that America plastered on didn't quite reach his eyes, his attempt at being lighthearted was feeble at best. But America was determined to push through this, trying to take the truth in stride rather than wallow in some self-inflicted misery.

He was the hero, god damnit, and was going to fix this.

America took a deep breath before speaking.

"What do you think this means, Arthur?" he asked, forcing the words out. Both England and Canada had fallen into a silence, neither of them taking the initiative to talk, and so America had taken it upon himself to keep the conversation going. "Maybe it's just 'cuz of the trauma?"

Blinking a couple of times, England seemed to shake off whatever had kept him silent. "No lad, I don't think so," he said, pausing slightly before clarifying. "I would need to know more, but if Matthew's memory loss is as complete as you say, then we would have another issue altogether."

America felt his smile fade. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. But as I said, I still need to know all the facts." England then turned to face the empty seat to America's left, looking somewhat awkward as he started to talk. "Uh, Matthew… lad, can you tell us exactly how much you remember?"

America glanced over to his brother, knowing that he would have to take on the role of translator.

Canada blinked once at being addressed directly by the Englishman before looking down at the ground, brows furrowed in thought.

"Uh, well… it's not like there's stuff I don't remember," he said slowly, almost as if trying out the words for size. "It's more like… like the memories just aren't there."

America paused uncertainly for a moment. "Um, isn't that kinda the same thing?"

"Isn't what the same thing?" England asked from behind him, voice tinged with displeasure at being left out.

America ignored him, waiting for his brother to answer.

Canada sighed, looking at America apologetically. "I don't really know how to explain this, but it's like I'm being told to find memories that just never existed." He looked down at his feet, expression marred with confusion. "There isn't even an empty space where the memories should be. It's just… they just don't exist, Al."

It was as if each word Canada spoke amplified America's growing sense of helplessness. Trying to shake off the heavy feeling, America gave his brother one last look before turning back to England and repeating the Canadian's words.

England didn't seem nearly as affected as America did by the given information.

"This definitely does not sound like a case of trauma," he finally said after spending a few moments in contemplative silence. "In fact, it almost sounds as if–" he cut himself off, eyes widening slightly as he seemed to consider something. Then, swiftly turning towards the Canadian's chair, he shot off a couple of quick questions.

"You say you remember absolutely nothing from your pre-country days?"

Canada sat back, giving America a confused look at the sudden change of intensity before hesitantly nodding yes.

At England's insistence, America relayed the answer.

"Right," England concurred curtly in acknowledgement. "And you also said that the first day you do remember is July 1st, 1867? Your first day of independence?"

"Yes," Canada answered, and America echoed the word.

England nodded his head as if this was exactly the response he had been expecting. There was obviously an idea forming in his thoughts, but America found himself just as lost as the Canadian likely was. Immediately after receiving the answers, the older nation had fallen into a contemplative silence. The two north Americans ended up looking at England with more than a little mystification.

However, if America was to be completely honest with himself, the sudden austerity of England's words had somewhat alarmed America. He wasn't quite sure he was going to like whatever answer England had constructed. America narrowed his eyes slightly, watching the older nation keenly for any indication of what was to come.

After a couple more seconds of silence, America finally decided to speak up.

"What?" he asked bluntly, hoping to prompt England to explain exactly what his thoughts were.

There was one final pause of silence as England looked up at his former colony, expression tinged with something akin to remorse. America frowned, about to comment on the strange look when England sighed, nodding his head almost imperceptibly before speaking, voice wavering with uncertainty.

"I… I can't be certain, but I think something similar to this has actually happened before." His gaze strayed to Matthew's chair. "But it would mean that Matthew… this Matthew… wouldn't be the one you thought he was."

America blinked twice, the words not making sense to him. To his side, Canada frowned, mouth opened slightly in confusion. "What does that mean, Al?" he asked, turning to face the American.

America shook his head, giving his brother a quick look of uncertainty before voicing his thoughts to the Englishman. "Wouldn't be the one I what?" he repeated incredulously, not quite understanding the aim of this conversation. He gave the older nation a disconcerted look. "You're gonna have to give us a bit more than that."

England took a deep breath, allowing his eyes to close momentarily as he prepared himself for the explanation. "I believe that Matthew," he said evenly, nodding briefly in the Canadian's direction, "is not the same Canada as the one you knew before." He paused to let that sink in. "If he has no recollection of his past life, which seems to be the case, then he is in all likelihood a different Matthew than the one that perished in the War of 1812."

America sat motionless in his chair, mouth hanging open slightly as he processed the statement. "What're you saying, Artie?" he finally asked finally, words coming out slowly, disbelieving. "Are trying to tell me that the original Matthew Williams – my brother – actually isn't the guy sitting right here next to me? That's impossible." He punctuated the last word with determination.

Canada shifted in his seat, looking suddenly out of place. His eyes were trained at his feet, an expression of distress on his face, and he continued to remain silent.

Following America's resolute declaration was a long moment of silence. England looked at America steadily, almost as if assessing the young nation before him, before lowering his gaze. "As I said, lad, I cannot be certain of what I'm saying. But it is my belief that the Canada with us here right now," he shot another look in the Canadian's direction," is a new representative that was born on July 1st, 1867 to personify the newly formed Dominion of Canada." England then closed his eyes for a moment, obviously giving himself a quick respite before he continued speaking. "Matthew does not remember anything before 1867 because he personally never experienced it."

America blinked a few time, the penetrating words resonating in the corner of his heart where he held all the memories of his and Matthew's co-existence. Without even meaning to, he found himself repeating his earlier disbelief. "So you're saying that the Matthew I remember… the one from before that War…"

Off to the side, Canada closed his eyes tightly as if trying to shut out the hurt in America's voice.

England sighed quietly, finishing America's abandoned sentence. "… is dead. For the past two hundred years he's been dead... and hasn't come back." He glanced between the two seats sympathetically. "I'm sorry, I truly am. If it is of any condolence, this idea is only my best conclusion." His gaze finally settled on America. "You are entitled to believe what you wish; lord knows you've been through enough today, you don't need me forcing theories down your throat."

America seemed lost for a second, staring at England with wide, afflicted eyes. "I… I don't know what to believe," he said slowly, blinking rapidly a couple of times before frowning slightly. He turned to look at Canada.

The northern nation had finally resorted to looking down blankly at his hands, his arms having come together to fold neatly in his lap. He seemed lost in thought, but after the brief moment of silence that followed America's last sentence, the Canadian blinked once and looked up to meet his brother's eyes.

It looked as if the American was pleading him for an answer.

America watched as his brother closed his eyes for a moment, an almost meditative look coming over the northern nation's features, before Canada finally looked up and fixed America with a sincere, if remorseful, stare. The look passed in silence until the Canadian spoke up, answering America's silent plea.

"I… I think he's right, Al. That's what I feel." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not the Matthew you grew up with."

And then…

"I'm sorry."