Author's Note: Well, isn't this awkward? What does one do when the narrator of the story dies? This chapter is in Canada's POV, starting one month after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

January 26th, 1992

I cannot run anymore.

With my back to a large tree I attempt to catch my breath, gripping my chest as it burns. This would be the perfect time to have a horse, but alas. She was killed in the musket fire. I'd mourn her death if I didn't think my own was imminent. Yet even with that bit of knowledge I cannot make my legs move anymore. My body has absolutely no energy left, I could not possibly force myself to move.

A few moments pass and my breath returns to me. My muscles scream at me as I begin to walk. Diligently I scan the forest as I move through it. I'm close to New York, if I can just make it across the line I'd be out of enemy territory. I'm so close.

I collapse on the forest floor, hardly able to catch any air. Hell, I'd drag myself if I could, I'm hardly a mile away from the border. I don't think I've ever been so exhausted in my life, closing my eyes never felt so good. This is dangerous, deadly even, but I can't.

The sound of a horse's hooves hitting the soft foliage hits me and I draw a choked breath. I'm done for. I'm wearing the wrong colors, I have no strength left, I-

"You've out done yourself." I don't even open my eyes, too tired to register the voice. He dismounts, boots hitting the ground. I manage to move my eyelids and immediately my heart throbs in my chest. I never expected that Prussia would be the one to find me. He kneels down next to me and reaches toward me. I try pushing him away but it's laughable.

"Don't move. Rest for now." He says in French, holding my arms down. I couldn't be happier to obey. "You're wounded." Am I?

I look down at my body and sure enough blood has seeped through my coat. When did I get that?

"Damnit." I say under my breath. He chuckles a bit and butterflies release into my stomach.

"It's not that bad, you'll live." His hands brush across my belly and sides as he moves my coat aside and lifts my shirt. I feel a blush creep onto my face as he places a hand on my stomach while cleaning the wound.

"Why are you helping me? Aren't you supposed to kill me?" I ask.

"And why would I do that?"

". . . we're fighting on different sides."

"You are too cute," he puts my shirt back down and looks up at me, "I'm supposed to capture you, not kill you. You think I would have agreed to the latter?" He lifts an eyebrow and I'm speechless.

"I-I don't know what you would have agreed to." I manage. He makes like he is going to pick me up and I struggle a bit, kicking his arm away.

"I do not want to be rough with you Canada but I will be if you keep fighting. I know you're tired." He makes to try again and once more I fight. He sighs and makes eye contact with me, those beautiful red eyes make me feel some type of way but I can't let him have me. I have to get to New York.

"It doesn't matter how tired I am, I will fight till my dying breath."

"I see that. Admirable, if ill-advised." He grips my arm with a lot more force than he has been using and forces my wrists to either side of me above my head. My muscles shake as I try to fight to no avail. His proximity and this position make my stomach do flips.

"Are you happy with this outcome." He teases.

"I am happy with none of the outcomes." He smiles before finally picking me up.

"Well, I'll let you choose the outcome of how you ride the horse. I can either place you at the end draped over her, or you could be upright behind me. Clearly the latter option would be the most comfortable but only if you promise not to try anything."

"I'd rather do neither."

"Don't make me choose for you." I sigh.

". . . upright."

Hesitantly I wrap my arms around his waist as we begin riding away from the New York border. I've never been so close to him, never touched him like this. If we weren't fighting a war maybe I'd let myself enjoy this a lot more. But I'm too tired to think about all that. I just close my eyes and burn into my mind what it feels like to hold him.

I open my eyes and turn to my side. The motivation to get up and do something today has dissipated. I can't stop thinking about him. . . When I wake up there are a few blissful moments when my brain hasn't quite registered that he's gone, and I can't wait to get up and find him sitting in the living room. But then the realization kicks in, and all the hope and excitement for the day drains away from me and I can't leave my bed.

I just wish I could stop thinking about it. Thinking about him falling, the seizure, the bleeding, how his breath stopped. My hands remember the feeling of his ribs breaking under the pressure of my compressions, God why can I not stop thinking about it?

I sit up and run a hand through my hair, staring down at the bed. I've seen some horrible things in my life; seen all the horrible things that can happen to the human body during war, and yet this. . . this bothers me almost as much as seeing all that mutilation as a doctor during the Second World War.

Maybe it's because I love him. Because there was nothing I could do. I had no idea what was happening to him, how to stop it, how to keep him from slipping away.

I cannot forget that tearful look Germany gave me when I stopped giving compressions. That look begged me for answers, trusted that if anyone were to bring him back it would be and I let him down.

It's been a month since that day. . . All the hope I had for it not being a final death has dissipated. Not even Russia has come back. They are both gone. And again. . . I'm alone.

February 14th, 1992

"Canada. . . Matthew?. . .come on." America pulls me up into a sitting position and my head swirls.

"Why must you?" I manage in a whisper.

"Because I care about you, and so does your government, and withering away is not an option."

"But I want to. . . are you ever tired of living?"

"Don't speak like that. Come on, get up, let's take a shower."

"America, please, just leave me alone."

"No. If I did you would just lie here for who knows how long. I know that you're not just going to snap out of this by the drop of a hat, but you need to get up and at least try."

"I know. . ." I sigh and close my eyes. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Come on." He helps me onto my feet and for once I'm grateful for America's pestering. I know that I shouldn't be allowing myself to take this so hard but I cannot help it. I've always felt so alone in my life and to lose the person who made me feel less like that not once but twice really damaged me. He walks me into the bathroom and leans me against the wall so he can prepare the shower. I stare at nothing, off into space. He turns back to me and sighs.

"I never knew you felt so strongly for him."

Of course you didn't - is what I want to say - you don't realize much about me.

"Yeah." I say dejectedly.

"Did you start developing feelings for him while he was here?"

He shouldn't have said that to me, I'm not in the mood to pretend I'm okay today.

"You are so blind, you know that?" I snap. His eyes widen, probably not expecting my mood to change so fast. "No. I've felt this way about him for longer than you could possibly imagine. But then again you've never paid attention to anything that wasn't yourself." Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh with him, but I can't help it. France always used to say I never handled my emotions well. I just feel them so strongly, it drives me insane.

"I-. . ."

"Wow, speechless for once, save the date."

"You know you can be a real ass sometimes. I'm just trying to help you, God forbid I try to talk to you."

"I do not need your help."

"Oh really? Is that why I'm constantly saving you?"

"Constantly saving me? That's rich," I laugh a bit, "saving me. . . I do not need saving. You're two hundred years too late for that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Of course you wouldn't know." My anger dies away as quickly as it came in favor of an intense wave of sadness. I take my glasses off and put them on the counter. Come on, Matthew, pull yourself together. Get a grip. ". . . fuck." I say under my breath, trying to get in control of my emotions.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry. You know I don't mean to upset you." He says in a soft voice, approaching me and pulling me against his chest. Tears stream from my eyes against my wishes as he softly rubs my back. "I'm sorry that I don't know. I will admit that I'm not the most intuitive person alive. But you have to know that I care a lot about you. You are the most important person to me."

I pull away from him a bit and give him a peculiar look.

"Why?" His hand comes to my cheek and wipes a few tears away.

"Because you are. Ever since I first saw you I just felt like I needed to protect you. I wanted to make sure you were always safe. . . I guess I haven't always done the best job, but-"

There he goes, speechless again. It only dons on me now how weird this is, my hands against his chest and his arm around me pulling me flush against him. Hm.

"It's okay. . . you were just a child, as was I. I shouldn't have expected you to know." I say softly.

"He did something to you, didn't he? It wasn't just me, was it. . ." I nod my head and his jaw tightens.

"I should have known. Was it after I left the Empire?"

"It started a bit before but yes, mostly after you left."

"I'm so sorry, Matthew."

"It's not your fault. . . Thank you for being here." I say while putting my face against his shoulder once more. He holds me closer by tightening his arm around my waist and putting his hand in my hair. The moan that leaves me is involuntary and we both pull away from each other quickly.

"Uhh, I guess that's something we have in common." He manages, blush spreading on his face.

"Yeah, um, I'm sure the shower is warm now."

"Yup. Okay. um, I'm going to be in the living room."

"Alright."

He leaves and I stifle a laugh at how awkward that was.

March 9th 1992

A moan of discomfort leaves me as I put a hand on my forehead and slump down into my couch. America's laugh rings through the kitchen.

"You had like, two glasses of wine! How are you this drunk already?" He laughs.

"Mmm," I groan, "I do not usually drink. I'm what the kids call a light-weight."

"Apparently so." He says softly while entering the living room and placing a bowl of chips on the coffee table. "Eat something you'll feel better."

"Eating does not help alcohol leave the system, only time can-"

"Don't get all doctor-y on me, it has a placebo effect." I smile a bit, sitting up on the couch and reaching for a few chips. "So what do you wanna watch tonight? We still have two of the movies I brought." He says while rummaging through a box of movies.

"Which ones are those?"

"I have. . . A Van Damme movie and, oh, Beauty and the Beast - it's cute. Came out last year."

I laugh a bit before eating another chip.

"What about Silence of the Lambs? I heard that one was good."

"Geez Matt, what is up with you and dark things? You want me to sit here and watch a horror movie in the dark in this isolated cabin?"

"It only adds to the experience. You start to get that feeling like something is behind you, and even though you turn to look you will always have a behind you. You can never truly see everything in the room at once, something could-"

"Okay, okay, I'm putting in Beauty and the Beast so I can watch something that'll take the trauma of what you just said away." He says with a laugh.

He takes a few movies out of the box in order to find the desired one. I watch as he places the Secret of NIMH on the coffee table and a wave of sorrow passes through me. I remember when Gilbert and I watched that movie. . .

Oh, the way he smiled at the animation. . . There is still so much I wish I could have done with him. He was just starting to get well enough to begin going places and supporting himself. I wish he was still here. . . I wish this world was different.

April 21st, 1992

I've always loved walking through the gardens. They make me feel like the most important thing in the world; walking through the garden of Eden. The fountains are mesmerizing, the flowers sticky sweet, even the delicate blossoms floating through the wind from the orange trees add to the majesty of it all. Ducklings swim through the lake, dragonflies play in the sky, and at night the paths are lit with lanterns and candles.

Mama doesn't like when I walk through the gardens alone, but I like the solitude. It is the only moment where I can relax and let go of all the rules and etiquette we must follow day in and day out at court. Not to mention the best things happen to me while I'm alone in the gardens. Like, a few months ago now, when I met that visiting German noble who was as breathtaking as the gardens around me. I haven't seen him since, but a small part of me always hopes to see him wondering about the orangerie.

I've had my fair share of flirting with the ladies at court, but never has anyone made me feel the way that man did when he just looked at me. I cringe at how I lost my ability to speak at first when I bumped into him, but I'm immediately soothed by the thought of his arms wrapped around me as he caught me. Those red eyes setting me ablaze, his raspy voice like music. He had to ask me twice if I was okay - that's how caught up I was.

I sigh longingly as I watch the ducklings paddle around the fountain. What I would give to see that man again.

"Canada." A strong, commanding voice says from behind me. I jump and stand up, startled. My eyes land on the Holy Roman Empire who smirks at me. "Sorry, did I startle you?"

"Just a bit." I say, straightening out my jacket.

"Your mother has been looking for you. Negotiations are to begin after dinner and she wants you with her so you can see how these things go."

"Must I?"

"Yes, you must. As boring as it may be you will learn a lot of important information and skills that will come in handy once you are older."

"Oh, look at you," Austria begins as he walks up to me, "sitting down in the dirt again. What am I to do with you." He says, patting down my clothes.

"He is a boy, Roderich. Let him have his fun." The Holy Roman Empire says with laughter in his voice. Austria scoffs.

"There are plenty of ways to have fun without getting dirt on one's clothing."

"There are, but only when the clothing is off."

Austria covers my ears and I smile.

"Wolfgang! There is no need to speak so inappropriately around him, he doesn't need these ideas planted in his mind."

"Oh come on, Austria lighten up. I was around his age when I started-"

"Stop right there. No ideas. Come now, Canada. Let's go back inside the palace." Austria takes my arm and leads me away from the Holy Roman Empire who begins laughing. "Don't listen to him, Matthew. You will spoil yourself if you engage in acts like that. It is virtuous to remain chaste and pure."

"I know." Austria smiles at me and nods.

"You will be the best of us one day." He leads me through the large manor and to my mother's apartment. A set of guards open the door for us and we walk in. Mama smiles at me once she sees me and waves for me to approach her. We embrace for a moment before she pulls away and looks over me.

"Perfect as always. Are you nervous?" She asks.

"Not really."

"Good. We lost the war but that doesn't mean we have to come out of this losers. We only have to worry about two kingdoms, I'm sure between Austria, Holy Rome, Russia, Sweden, and the Mughal Empire we can satisfy whatever they ask for easily." Mama reassures.

"I'm sure we will be fine." I add.

"That's the spirit. Now run along, your mother and I have to discuss a few things before the meeting starts." Austria says. Mama kisses my forehead before allowing me to leave the room.

As I walk through the halls I'm greeted by every noble that happens to pass by. Feeling a bit exhausted from the attention I head back out to the gardens and walk along the less travelled trails. As dinner approaches I decide it's a good idea to begin making my way back and that's when I almost run into someone.

"My apologies, I-" My sentence dies out as my eyes meet red ones. It's the German noble.

"Running into people seems to be a habit of yours." He teases.

"I'm sorry." I manage, feeling a blush come on to my face.

"No worries, love." He says the last word in German and now I'm regretting not taking Austria's lessons more seriously.

"Prussia! Good to see you." The Holy Roman Empire says while embracing the man. My eyes widen and I take a step back. Wait. The German noble is Prussia?!

"Good to see you too, Wolfgang, though I'm not sure how much your husband would appreciate this embrace."

Holy Rome lets go of him and looks off awkwardly.

"Right then. Uh, we are going to start shortly. I suggest you two begin heading back soon." A strange look passes between them before Holy Rome walks away.

"You are Prussia?" I ask dumbly.

"Sure am." He says with a dazzling smile.

"You and my mother are at war, what were you doing in the gardens that night?"

"Were at war. We are talking peace today. And, it would mean the world to me if you told no one about that night. I would get in a bit of trouble with your mother if she knew."

"Oh, o-of course. I won't say anything."

"Good boy." He says while cupping my cheek. Curls of heat fill my stomach and my mouth runs dry. He looks into my eyes and for a moment a few not so appropriate thoughts flash through my mind. He chuckles as his hand leaves my face. "I'll walk you back to the manor."

To say that I'm blushing is an understatement. I feel like I have a fever, it is a miracle that my feet begin to move.

". . . How long will you be staying?" I finally manage once we begin to pass the orangerie.

"Five days, perhaps seven if England doesn't feel satisfied with what he gets."

"What does he want?"

Prussia stops walking and I turn to look at him. His features turn a bit somber and a bad feeling begins to replace my giddiness.

"He wants you."

My eyes open and I sit up on the couch.

"France told me how poor you've been sleeping lately so I didn't want to bother you." England says while placing a tray of tea on the coffee table. I swallow thickly as I try to recall the events of the night previous. The type of headache I have tells me I was drinking, but everything else is blurry. Waking up on England's couch leads me to believe that nothing happened between us last night but honestly I have no clue. More than once in my youth I have been given too much alcohol and taken advantage of, because of this I tend not to drink but. . .

"I don't know why, I don't mean to be so tired."

"None of us do." He sits next to me and places a hand on my knee. Oh no. no. no. Why is he touching me like that? What happened last night?

"I cannot remember anything." I admit.

"No worries, dear. You got a bit drunk last night and passed out on the couch. Nothing else happened if that is what you are trying to ask."

"Y-yes, thanks." Damn my weak voice. He gives me a small smile before the hand on my knee leaves in favor of brushing the end of my hair.

"Your hair is getting a bit long."

I roll my eyes and stand up.

"What do you have against long hair?"

"I don't have anything against it. . . you would just look better with hair that didn't go past your shoulders."

"I quite like my hair long."

"To each his own, I suppose." I bite my tongue. Talking back to him will only cause him to tell me to quit acting like America.

May 31st, 1991

Laying in the grass, listening to the birds sing as a soft breeze flows through couldn't be any more magical. A warm feeling of content fills my chest and I sigh out happily.

"I know," a deep, soothing voice agrees, "it is one of the most peaceful things I have ever experienced." I smile and sit up, looking down at Russia. He has his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. I laugh at the content look on his face, causing him to open his eyes. "What is so funny, little one?"

"You! It's like you are going to fall asleep."

"I could. You wear me out." I laugh and he smiles.

"Mama says it's good for you."

"It is good for me. The warmth fights off winter." I don't really understand what he means by that, but I'm happy nonetheless. My energy has returned to me and I feel like playing again. A plan formulates in my mind and I stifle a giggle as I sit up and pretend to stalk him like a cat. His eyes are closed so he is unsuspecting when I pounce on him.

"Ha! Got you!" I laugh.

"Are you sure about that?" he says while tickling me.

"Ah! Haha! No Fair!"

"Oh it is so fair." He stops to let me breathe and I shake my head.

"You're not ticklish, so it's not fair." I laugh.

"That is where you are wrong. I am, but I'm not going to tell you where."

I look up past him and see mama behind him. She smiles and puts a finger to her lips and I can hardly contain the secret. She kneels down behind him and grabs the area just above his hips. He gasps and laughs a bit.

"I know where it is." She says before kissing his cheek.

"That's not fair." He whispers to her.

"Oh really?" She says equally as soft before pressing into his hips again. He gasps and looks into her eyes.

"Really. . ."

"Ew!" I say at their affection, causing them to smile.

"Alright, sweetheart it's getting late." Mama says to me.

"Do I really have to?"

"Yes, honey. We can all play tomorrow."

"Okay!"

"I'll be right back, my love." She says to Russia before kissing him.

"Gross!"

"What is wrong with me?" I mumble into Alfred's lap. "I actually wanted to watch that movie." The credits roll up the screen as he laughs a bit.

"You looked very content, I didn't want to ruin that for you."

"Yeah, well, it was actually a really good dream. . . Kind of bittersweet now." I say while sitting up and stretching a bit.

"Memory?"

"Yeah. . . It was one from my early childhood, when Russia and France were still together. He was like a father to me for a while. I was so heartbroken when they broke up."

"Russia? Fatherly? That doesn't sound good."

"He's changed from what he used to be. . . Any word from his administration?"

"No. They are deliberating on a new personification if nothing improves in the next month."

I furrow my eyebrows while turning the TV off.

"You sound sad about that. I thought this is what you wanted."

"So did I but. . . I don't know."

"Come on, tell me."

". . . Something happened between us when he was still alive and I. . . It was um. . . It just made me think about how things could have been different. Like if we were human and could. . ."

"Be together?"

"I did not say that." He says defensively.

"You insinuated." I tease.

"No, I-"

"Look, you're blushing! America doesn't blush, what is this?" I tease while poking his cheek.

"Matthew, come on, stop. Okay, I feel things for maybe that guy."

"That is close enough." I say with a smile.

"Good. Cause that's as close to a confession you'll get from me." I yawn and he leans back into the couch. "Bed time?"

"I guess so."

"Alright. I'll see you in the morning." He gives me a quick smile before standing and walking down the hall to the guest room. I allow myself to bask in the memory I was reminded of for a few moments until the phone begins to ring. With a content sigh I get up and answer it, not bothered that who ever is calling is doing so exceptionally late.

"Hello?"

"Canada?"

". . . Prussia?"