A/N: Short little note today. just please read the note from chapter 13 so you guys are up to date on the story and my plans with it.

hope you enjoy chapter 14

*THIS IS RATED M FOR MATURE OR GRAPHIC CONTENT. DONT READ IF SENSITIVE*

"America, Darling, it's time to get up." Maxon shakes my arm. I try my best to ignore him. I don't want to get up. I just want to sleep. I'm so tired for some reason. So, I don't move too much. I try not to show any signs that him shaking me woke me up. Unfortunately, he knows me too well, and sees right through my fake sleeping, "You have to get up, Darling. We're in Carolina."

I groan, "I don't want to."

"I know, Darling, but you need to."

I open my eyes and rub the sleep out of them. I sit up and look at Maxon, who is standing in front of me, all ready to leave the comfort of the plane to face the press. I extend my hand and he pulls meme to meet him. He gives me the tiara I wore in. I put it into my hair. I straighten out my dress and cardigan. I run my fingers through my hair one last time before gripping on to Maxon.

We walk to the door. "Are we the last ones?"

"Besides Officer Ryan, yes."

I nod and put on my best smile. He goes down the shallow stairs first, offering his hand when he gets to the bottom, "Careful, coming down these steps, America."

"Don't worry, I will be." I take the steps down and grip onto his hand rather hard, "Thank you."

"Of course."

I loop my arm through his and we begin to walk to the car that will take me back to my childhood home. I wave and smile at everyone. It takes all of my effort to not run up to sign autographs or hug fans from my home province. I look at Maxon with pleading eyes, and he let's go of me to allow me to say hello. I see girls with fun signs saying this such as 'Carolina is Queen Material' and 'Red Heads for Queen'. It makes me smile and think about when I was first heading to Angeles. I hug a few younger girls that look to be about Fours or Fives. I try to at least high five some of the people we pass. I could spend all day just thanking people and giving out hugs. Of course, the visitation doesn't last long before Maxon beckons me back to him. We reattach to each other and go finish the rest of the walk to the private car waiting for us, waving and smiling the entire way back. The chauffeur opens the door for us, but Maxon lets me in first, as always. I slide in and he follows. Once the door is closed, I allow my posture to slack. I didn't realize that I was forcing myself up so much.

"Are you excited to be back?"

"Kinda. Don't get me wrong, I love Carolina, but this isn't home anymore."

"It isn't?"

"It isn't. My home is you, Maxon. Whether it be in the palace or a cardboard box out on the street. As long as I have you, I'm home."

He pulls me into him and kisses my head sweetly. I melt into his touch. "I really appreciate that, America."

"It's only the truth."

He kisses my head again and we sit the rest of the ride in silence. It was only a 10 minute drive back to my old home, but it felt eterinites long. When the car parks, my nerves spike. I'm not really sure why. Maybe it's because I didn't think I'd be back here after my dad's funeral, but here I am. Maybe it's because there are too many memories in here, and it's so much to unpack at once. I'm not sure, and I hate it. I hate that I can't tell where this anxiety is coming from. I swallow the ball of anxiety that sits in my throat and grab Maxon's hand to pull me up. We walk arm and arm to the front of the house. My family gets out of their respected cars and follows my actions, looking to me for what to do. We stop at the front door. Maxon goes to turn the knob, and I have to stop myself from smacking his hand away. Anxious is written all over my face, and he notices.

"Are you ready for this?"

"I'm not sure anymore. I thought I would be, but this house has too many memories, too many times where I was pushed over the edge." I shudder thinking about it.

He pulls his hand away and grabs mine. He puts my hand on the knob, keeping his layered overtop of it, and looks deep into my eyes, "We'll do it together."

I nod. "On three?"

"On three."

Our voices sync together, "One… two… three."

He turns our hands and the door opens. Once, the door is open, my anxiety is gone. I'm ready to face this. I grab his hand and pull him in. He laughs as he is yanked through the door and into the house. My family files in behind me. I see him examine the small space. Our kitchen is connected to our living room. Our rooms are all right down the hall, and it's only one story. The only space that you can't see from here is the garage, where my dad's studio is. I saw him pull off his crown, I followed him and took my tiara off. We ended up setting them down on the counter by the fridge.

"So this is where you grew up?"

I nod excitedly, "We would have dinners over here. When Kota and Kenna moved out I would help make the food. It was the job of the oldest on top of whatever else they needed to do. Then, on Friday nights at 8 o'clock we would all huddle around the TV over there and watch the Report. My dad would sit in the reclining chair and I would sit on the floor over here. May would sit on the couch next to my mom and Gerad. She fawned over you for so long when we watched. And over this way," I pull home towards my room, "is my old room. This is where I would be to practice and play and, of course, sleep."

I open the room. It hasn't changed since I went back to Angeles in December. The jar with the penny and the button bracelet still sits on the dresser. I should get rid of that. The compact that has powder in it that I put on before I left is still here. Everything is just as I left it. He walks in and plops down comfortably on my bed. He falls back into the mattress and inhales deeply. He stays this way for a minute while I walk around the room investigating.

"You know," He pops back up to look at me, "for this being your room, it doesn't smell like you."

I sigh, "I didn't have that perfume that you and I love so much when I was around here. What's in this room is all I had."

"And I love all of it."

I sit down on the bed next to him. He grabs my hand and circles over my knuckles. I lean into him, my head resting on his shoulder. "Tell me some stories of your childhood. What was it like growing up here? Growing up a Five? Growing up in the world as a person and not a royal or a One?"

"Well, growing up a Five was a struggle. I've told you some things before, but I'm not going to sugar coat it or lie to you. It was hard. We had times when we didn't have much food at all, but other times we would be able to have leftovers. There were times when there wasn't much work to do, but then there were times when we were working everyday all day with little time to rest. Everything in our lives was going with the flow and going with the rise and fall of the holidays, and it was hard. There were times when I went hungry, but then there were times when I was full and we could save some things for later."

"I remember you telling me that at points you had gone hungry. I made a mental note to make sure that you would never go hungry as long as you were in my life."

"And you are doing a wonderful job." I kiss his cheek.

"Tell me more. What else went on around here?"

"Growing up in this house was chaotic." I laugh just thinking about it all, "Kota and I would play outside in the tree house my dad built. Kenna would be there too, but she didn't really want to play with us. We would pretend that we were on a boat or an airplane or something. Kota would be the captain and I was his right hand man. We would make mud pies and play in the dirt. By the time May was born and old enough to play with us, I was working and couldn't play too much. She would braid my hair before performances and then she fell in love with painting and got caught up in that. Then, Gerad came. He is pretty much the same way he was when he was younger. My mother is strict and made sure things got done. My dad was more relaxed, but still stern when he needed to be."

"Your life before me sounds amazing and fun."

"My life was only amazing when I got to meet you and become friends with you and then fall in love with you."

He kisses my lips lightly. I melt and deepen the kiss by throwing my arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me up to straddle him. His hand only slightly shifted down to lay on my butt. We kiss for a while. Just allowing our lips to touch and our tongues to dance around each other. Then, there is knocking at the open door. We jump away from each other. I fix my appearance and Kenna laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesties." Kenna mocks while she curtsies and walks in slowly. "Mom wanted me to come tell you that we are having 'linner' and it is ready."

"I didn't know that we had food in the house." I stood up, still fixing my appearance.

"We had non-perishables, but she also had Mary and Lucy run out to get some things for lunch and dinner. Something about 'impressing the king with her cooking'."

"What did she make?"

"Hamburgers with fries."

"A Magda Singer classic." I stand up, "Thank you, for telling us."

She nods and heads out. I pull Maxon up. He faces me, rubbing my arms lightly and he says, "Hamburgers and fries to impress the king?"

"She is… something else."

"But I appreciate it."

I kiss him, "I know you do."

We grab hands and walk from my room to the small kitchen table. Maxon, the poor boy, doesn't really know what to do. My mom sits at the head of the table. Kenna is on her left with James and Astra. Kota on her right. I sit down and Maxon sits next to me. May sits next to Maxon and she is excited. Her energy level and excitement is somewhere between hyperactive squirrel and bouncing off the walls in a sugar high. Gerad sits next to Astra. Mom gives everyone a bun for their burgers. She then sets the burgers in the middle with the fries. The condiments are scattered around the main meal.

"Maxon, would you like to start the burgers." Asks Mom.

"Uhm… sure." He leans over to me and whispers, "How do I…?"

I giggle lightly, "Take a burger, and pass the plate to May. Then, take some fries and put whatever you want on your burger and plate. Everything you use will get passed to May."

"Thanks, Darling."

I kiss his cheek before putting some fries on my plate and passing it to him. He follows suit, taking the ketchup and mustard for his burger, too. Once all the food is passed out my mom starts talking. "How is everyone enjoying everything?"

"Mom, you always make the best food." Kenna tells her.

"She's right. You do make pretty great food." I second Kenna.

"What about you, Maxon? What do you think?" Mom asks nervously.

He clears his throat before speaking, "Well, I think it is great, Magda. Nothing is better than a home cooked meal."

She blushes, "Thank you."

The rest of the meal is filled with chaotic small talk. I feel bad for Maxon, this atmosphere is new to him and he doesn't care for it too much. I try to help him by nudging him or telling him under my breath that it's okay to just talk out, but his royal roots of only talking when spoken to are too strong. My mom tries her very best to engage in conversation with him, which helps, but then May or Kenna talked and threw him off his agame. By the time he kinda got the hang of it, everyone was done eating. I grabbed both of our plates and went to the sink to clean them. He followed behind trying his best to help, but yet again he doesn't really know how. He's never had to clean before. He could just leave his stuff out and someone will eventually take care of it.

"Maxon, sweetheart, why don't you go sit down in the living room and hang out with May and Gerad?"

He throws his hands up in surrender, "Alright. Whatever you wish, Darling."

I watch him staunter off to sit in the living room. I turn back to help dry off the dishes with my mom.

"He's trying his best."

"I know." I sigh, "This is just out of his element. He's never had to clean dishes as a One. It's better if he just hangs out with May and Gerad."

I look back to him. He is putting together a puzzle with Gerad while May talks aimlessly at Maxon. I see his laugh and talk as he puts another piece down. I turn back to my mother. She smiles at me with so much warmth, "He's good for you, you know?"

I dry another plate and set it down, "Yea, I do. He's the best thing that ever happened to me, and I don't know where I'd be without him."

She hands me another plate and I continue to dry them down. For the next ten minutes, we work as a team to wash and dry dishes. Once the dishes are finished, I put them away while she wipes down the table.

I hug her, "Time to start packing everything up that you want to take to Angeles."

"What about everything else?"

"I wanted to tell you this earlier but I didn't have the time to. The province of Carolina wants to save this house and make it a museum of sorts. They plan on running tours throughout the house. Apparently, it's a big deal that I married Maxon and am now a One, and they want to save that. They will replace anything you take to make it look like all of us lived here around the time I found out I was selected. "

"Oh wow, that's exciting."

"It is, so don't worry about taking too much or too little."

"There is only one thing I want to take. That chair." She points to dad's chair.

"Oh Mom!" I pull her in tighter.

She cries into my arms. I kissed her head and rubbed her back in efforts to help her the only way I could. I didn't let go, I didn't want to unless she was ready. So, we stayed like that. Her sobs only muffled slightly by my body and me trying to comfort her. After a few minutes or so, she pulled away and put herself together.

"Sorry about that, honey."

"It's alright. That's very sweet. Are you sure there is nothing else, though?"

She sniffles. "I'm sure, it's the only thing I need in the new house. And whatever May and Gerad want to bring."

"Alright. Do you need help wi-"

"I know you don't have to listen to my orders since you have your fancy title, but I command you to go have fun with your husband, Queen America. Show him around. Tell him stories. Be together for the first and last time in this home."

"Alright. Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"I got it here. Go! If you close your old bedroom and close the door then we'll know not to go in..." She winks at me.

"God, Mother! Trust me, you'll be able to hear it if we are in there doing what you think we are doing…"

"Did I need to know that?"

"No, but you brought this up, not me." I laugh anxiously, "Alright. I'll be back later to help with anything else."

I kiss her cheek before I walk away from her to go to my husband. He is still sitting on the floor with May and Gerad. I sit next to him and lean into his arm. He kisses my head while May talks.

"...which is why my dad even let me move into his garage studio. It wasn't till I was sure that painting was my thing. He wanted to make sure that I would be in it for real before he gave up some of his space for me. Hi Ames. How was doing the dishes with Mom?"

I wave it off, "Just like old times."

"I bet." She rolls her eyes, "Do you miss it?"

"Nope." I laugh and she laughs with me. "Maxon, mind if I steal you away for a couple hours."

"Not at all."

He stands up, straightening out his shirt and pants before extending a hand to me. I take it, and he pulls it up. I adjust a little, mainly fixing the skirt of my dress. "May, Gerad, I need you guys to pack up anything and everything you want to take with you. Any art things or any toys you might want. Alright?"

"Yep." They say.

I nod. My hand reaches for Maxon's. I pull him away, he almost protests, but stops himself. I walk quickly back to my old room. I abruptly yank him and close the door, turning the lock. I slip off my heels, for this I'll be better off bare foot. Then, I walk diligently over to the window. He matched my actions without asking any questions.

I slide the window up and say, "I don't have fancy rooftop access during thunderstorms. I don't have balconies to look out on. I don't have a garden for us to walk through or a bench outside for us. I don't have horses to ride or anything with archery. I don't have a home theater or millions of parlors that we could hang out in. I don't have secret libraries or hidden rooms. I don't have anything like that. What I do have is a treehouse, and I want you to see it."

I allow my body to slip through my open window. I glance back, "Are you coming?"

"With you? Always." He glides through, trailing behind me.

I smile and grab his hand. We ran together to the treehouse. I stop at the ladder, "Follow me up?"

"Always."

I begin to climb up, but stop only a few steps up. I look down and Maxon's pupils are dilated to the extreme. He must be enjoying the show I'm unintentionally giving him by climbing up in a dress without wearing spandex under it. "Like the view?"

He nods which only makes me laugh. I see him look down and then back up again, probably a little embarrassed that I called him out. I continue up even though I know he is looking straight up the underside of my dress. I pull myself up and in. When I look down, he is about up to the top. My hand extends out for him. He takes it and manages to pull himself up and into the treehouse.

He sits into the corner, and I follow him to cuddle into him. His arm wraps around me and I give myself the pleasure of curling up into his warmth.

I say in a soft voice just above a whisper, "I wanted to show you this because this is where I would be with Aspen and we would see each other."

I feel his tense under me. He must be upset. That makes me the worst wife ever... When he speaks, his voice is low and deadly. I feel each word cut through my porcelain skin like a knife. "You brought me to where you and your ex would do God knows what?"

"Only because I wanted to fill this treehouse with new memories." I reassure him in a jittery but still sweet voice. I pull away to look at him. "Ones of you and I being up here connected in the most intimate way possible. Doesn't that sound nice, lovely, even romantic?"

"You want to use me to drown out old memories?" His voice raises in volume. He never ever raises his voice at me. This is much worse than I thought it would be...

I sit up straighter and scooch across the floor, away from him. "That-that's not what I meant when I said that. I just, I thought you would, I thought we could… I'm sorry. This was a stupid idea… again. We don't have to stay up here, we don't even have to come back up here if you don't want to. We can go back to the house and hang out with my family if you want or we can talk in my room about anything you wa-"

"America." He calls me, but I'm lost in my thoughts, trying to convince him that I didn't mean to hurt him because I didn't. I never want to hurt him. I just wanted to remember Carolina in a new way. One that wasn't filled with hurt from Christmas or when Aspen broke up with me. I want it to be filled with love for Maxon, the way it should have always been when I found out I was selected.

I keep rambling my ideas to drown him out. "I mean, we can always watch a movie while they pack, I know we have a few good films we could put on or we can help them pack or do something differ-"

"America." He tries again, but fails without intending to.

"If I'm being honest with you, I don't care what we do, as long as your not mad at me for brin-"

"America!"

I flinch away from him even more when his voice is no longer just raised.

He yelled at me. Maxon Schreave has never once yelled at me in the way he just did. Not even during the Selection when I pushed him and called him a child and made him mad. Not even when he saw Aspen and I just one step too close for comfort. Not even when I tried to tell him I loved him before he almost chose Kriss. I am taken back by this, so when he yells at me, I try to hide and protect myself. I cover my ears with my hands and pull my knees up to my chest, turning away from him just in case he decides to explode. After a few seconds, I realize he isn't going to do anything more, so I let my defenses down slowly. I relax my tensed muscles and let my hands fall away from my head. I turn my body back to face him but I don't look up at Maxon. I can't. Instead I focus on the hands I just pulled away from my body, the hem of my dress that got flipped up from pulling my sharp actions that then refused to unfold when I was relaxing, my knees that I had pulled up to my chest in effort to protect myself, but it's anything that is not named Maxon Schreave. While I avoid eye contact I think about what just happened.

I cowered away from him. I've never done that. I didn't cower away when Clarkson was angry at me. I stood my ground around him. I didn't cower away when Marlee got caned. I tried to stop them. I didn't cower away when I got shot or during any rebel attacks. I ran and took cover so I didn't die, but I didn't cower away. Where did that America go? Where did the America who stood up for herself go? Where was the America who wouldn't go down into the safe room unless her maids were with her? Where did the America who broke up a fight between Maxon and Kota this morning go?

I don't know. This America, the America who cowers away from her husband- her harmless husband- when he is upset, this America isn't the America I know. This America isn't the America that Maxon fell in love with. This America isn't America at all, it can't be. I refuse to believe it.

"I'm sorry…" I mumble, a single tear races down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly. I don't want him to think that he hurt me in any way. Crying is a sign of weakness. No tears, America. No tears.

He softens, "America, look at me."

I slowly meet his eyes, still afraid that there is fire behind them. I'm relieved when I don't see any. He says, "I'm not mad. God, what a stupid reason to be mad at you."

"But you were yelling, and you hardly ever yell. I haven't heard you yell in a long time and I just gave you every right to be mad at m-"

"And I regret that I did that." His face falls, showing the inner battle going on, "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you. I regretted it after I did it, after I saw your reaction… that wasn't me, that was that part of me that is still my father and still his anger and his aggression… I try so hard to not lash out at stupid shit like that. I try, America, I swear I do. I shouldn't have because that's how abuse starts, I know that for a fact. And I don't want that for you, for our future. I want you to wake up everyday happy and safe with me. You can't have that with me like this. I'm sorry, America. I just… lost my temper and took it out on you."

A single tear streams down his face as he sits and thinks so openly, it's almost as if I can read his mind. I can spell out his thoughts word for word as that flash in his mind because I know, without a doubt in my mind, what is racing in his gorgeous blonde head. He's thinking about what would happen if he did this again. He's thinking about if he lashed out over something again and what it would lead to. He's worried about it leading to him hitting, wiping, or caning me. I know where his head is at, and I need to pull him out. That's my job as his wife. So, I do just that. I put my hand out tentatively to touch his knee. He looks up at me when my hand makes contact. I try my best not to pity, but I can't help the sad smile that spreads across my face.

"I'm not mad at you. God, what a stupid reason for me to be mad at the love of my life." I mimic his words just enough to bring a smile on his face. I lean into him and kiss his cheek lightly. He pulls me into him tighter, and I welcome it with an open heart. We wrap ourselves up in each other's warmth like it's a blanket of security that we need to survive. We don't let go. We don't want to. We don't need to. We need to support each other. In our relationship, we try so hard to. It was harder when we weren't married, and it's not like I can really attest much to a change this very second, but I can say that I am still working on that.

"I'm sorry for yelling. And for making you flinch away." He whispers into my hair.

"I'm sorry that I brought you up here for the wrong reasons. And for flinching away."

"You have no right to be sorry. You, my love, did nothing wrong." I just nodded into his chest. He sighs, "You ground me, America. You flinching the way you did, grounded me an unbelievable amount. Thank you for pulling me out."

"Anything for you."

He pulls away to look at me. "Anything?"

"Anything at all." He kisses me, and we stay close for the next hour in the tree house, making new memories in the most intimate way possible, by talking openly about us and our future together. Because intimacy with a partner doesn't alway mean sex. It means talking about fears and talking about feelings. It means being vulnerable, which both him and I were today.